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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Library of the World's Best Literature,
+Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles Dudley Warner
+
+Release Date: September 3, 2010 [EBook #33624]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            LIBRARY OF THE
+                       WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE
+                          ANCIENT AND MODERN
+
+
+                        CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
+
+                                EDITOR
+
+
+            HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE    LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE
+                         GEORGE HENRY WARNER
+
+                          ASSOCIATE EDITORS
+
+
+                         Connoisseur Edition
+
+                              VOL. XVI.
+
+
+                               NEW YORK
+                      THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY
+
+
+
+
+                         Connoisseur Edition
+
+            LIMITED TO FIVE HUNDRED COPIES IN HALF RUSSIA
+
+                         _No_.    ..........
+
+
+                         Copyright, 1896, by
+                      R. S. PEALE AND J. A. HILL
+                        _All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+                         THE ADVISORY COUNCIL
+
+
+  CRAWFORD H. TOY, A. M., LL. D.,
+    Professor of Hebrew,        HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Cambridge, Mass.
+
+  THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL. D., L. H. D.,
+    Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School of
+                                   YALE UNIVERSITY, New Haven, Conn.
+
+  WILLIAM M. SLOANE, PH. D., L. H. D.,
+    Professor of History and Political Science,
+                              PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, Princeton, N. J.
+
+  BRANDER MATTHEWS, A. M., LL. B.,
+    Professor of Literature,     COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, New York City.
+
+  JAMES B. ANGELL, LL. D.,
+    President of the        UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN, Ann Arbor, Mich.
+
+  WILLARD FISKE, A. M., PH. D.,
+    Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages
+    and Literatures,               CORNELL UNIVERSITY, Ithaca, N. Y.
+
+  EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A. M., LL. D.,
+    Director of the Lick Observatory, and Astronomer,
+                            UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, Berkeley, Cal.
+
+  ALCÉE FORTIER, LIT. D.,
+    Professor of the Romance Languages,
+                                 TULANE UNIVERSITY, New Orleans, La.
+
+  WILLIAM P. TRENT, M. A.,
+    Dean of the Department of Arts and Sciences, and Professor of
+    English and History,     UNIVERSITY OF THE SOUTH, Sewanee, Tenn.
+
+  PAUL SHOREY, PH. D.,
+    Professor of Greek and Latin Literature,
+                                UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, Chicago, Ill.
+
+  WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL. D.,
+    United States Commissioner of Education,
+                              BUREAU OF EDUCATION, Washington, D. C.
+
+  MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A. M., LL. D.,
+    Professor of Literature in the
+                   CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA, Washington, D. C.
+
+
+
+
+                          TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+                               VOL. XVI
+
+
+                                                    LIVED       PAGE
+  AULUS GELLIUS                         Second Century A.D.     6253
+    From 'Attic Nights': Origin, and Plan of the Book;
+          The Vestal Virgins; The Secrets of the Senate;
+          Plutarch and his Slave; Discussion on One of
+          Solon's Laws; The Nature of Sight; Earliest
+          Libraries; Realistic Acting; The Athlete's End
+
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM                                               6261
+    Theodosius the Emperoure
+    Moralite
+    Ancelmus the Emperour
+    Moralite
+    How an Anchoress was Tempted by the Devil
+
+
+  EDWARD GIBBON                                   1737-1794     6271
+                           BY W. E. H. LECKY
+    Zenobia
+    Foundation of Constantinople
+    Character of Constantine
+    Death of Julian
+    Fall of Rome
+    Silk
+    Mahomet's Death and Character
+    The Alexandrian Library
+    Final Ruin of Rome
+      All from the 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'
+
+
+  WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT                        1836-         6333
+    Captain Reece
+    The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
+    The Bishop of Rum-ti-foo
+    Gentle Alice Brown
+    The Captain and the Mermaids
+      All from the 'Bab Ballads'
+
+
+  RICHARD WATSON GILDER                           1844-         6347
+    Two Songs from 'The New Day'
+    "Rose-Dark the Solemn Sunset"
+    The Celestial Passion
+    Non Sine Dolore
+    On the Life Mask of Abraham Lincoln
+    From 'The Great Remembrance'
+
+
+  GIUSEPPE GIUSTI                                 1809-1850     6355
+    Lullaby ('Gingillino')
+    The Steam Guillotine
+
+
+  WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE                         1809-         6359
+    Macaulay ('Gleanings of Past Years')
+
+
+  EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN                           1831-         6373
+    The Duty of Criticism in a Democracy ('Problems of
+          Modern Democracy')
+
+
+  GOETHE                                          1749-1832     6385
+                           BY EDWARD DOWDEN
+    From 'Faust,' Shelley's Translation
+    Scenes from 'Faust', Bayard Taylor's Translation
+    Mignon's Love and Longing ('Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship')
+    Wilhelm Meister's Introduction to Shakespeare (same)
+    Wilhelm Meister's Analysis of Hamlet (same)
+    The Indenture (same)
+    The Harper's Songs (same)
+    Mignon's Song (same)
+    Philina's Song (same)
+    Prometheus
+    Wanderer's Night Songs
+    The Elfin-King
+    From 'The Wanderer's Storm Song'
+    The Godlike
+    Solitude
+    Ergo Bibamus!
+    Alexis and Dora
+    Maxims and Reflections
+    Nature
+
+
+  NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL                      1809-1852     6455
+                         BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD
+    From 'The Inspector'
+    Old-Fashioned Gentry ('Mirgorod')
+
+
+  CARLO GOLDONI                                   1707-1793     6475
+                      BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON
+    First Love and Parting ('Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni')
+    The Origin of Masks in the Italian Comedy (same)
+    Purists and Pedantry (same)
+    A Poet's Old Age (same)
+    The Café
+
+
+  MEÏR AARON GOLDSCHMIDT                          1819-1887     6493
+    Assar and Mirjam ('Love Stories from Many Countries')
+
+
+  OLIVER GOLDSMITH                                1728-1774     6501
+                        BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY
+    The Vicar's Family Become Ambitious ('The Vicar of Wakefield')
+    New Misfortunes: But Offenses are Easily Pardoned Where
+          There is Love at Bottom (same)
+    Pictures from 'The Deserted Village'
+    Contrasted National Types ('The Traveller')
+
+
+  IVAN ALEKSANDROVITCH GONCHARÓF                  1812-         6533
+                        BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
+    Oblómof
+
+
+  THE BROTHERS DE GONCOURT                                      6549
+               Edmond                             1822-1896
+               Jules                              1830-1870
+    Two Famous Men ('Journal of the De Goncourts')
+    The Suicide ('Sister Philomène')
+    The Awakening ('Renée Mauperin')
+
+
+  EDMUND GOSSE                                    1849-         6565
+    February in Rome
+    Desiderium
+    Lying in the Grass
+
+
+  RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL                           1823-         6571
+    Heinrich Heine ('Portraits and Studies')
+
+
+  JOHN GOWER                                      1325?-1408    6579
+    Petronella ('Confessio Amantis')
+
+
+  ULYSSES S. GRANT                                1822-1885     6593
+                           BY HAMLIN GARLAND
+    Early Life ('Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant')
+    Grant's Courtship (same)
+    A Texan Experience (same)
+    The Surrender of General Lee (same)
+
+
+  HENRY GRATTAN                                   1746-1820     6615
+    On the Character of Chatham
+    Of the Injustice of Disqualification of Catholics
+          (Speech in Parliament)
+    On the Downfall of Bonaparte (Speech in Parliament)
+
+
+  THOMAS GRAY                                     1716-1771     6623
+                       BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
+    Elegy Written in a Country Church-yard
+    Ode on the Spring
+    On a Distant Prospect of Eton College
+    The Bard
+
+
+  THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY                                           6637
+                          BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS
+    On the Athenian Dead at Platæa (Simonides); On the
+         Lacedæmonian Dead at Platæa (Simonides); On a
+         Sleeping Satyr (Plato); A Poet's Epitaph (Simmias
+         of Thebes); Worship in Spring (Theætetus); Spring
+         on the Coast (Leonidas of Tarentum); A Young Hero's
+         Epitaph (Dioscorides); Love (Posidippus); Sorrow's
+         Barren Grave (Heracleitus); To a Coy Maiden
+         (Asclepiades); The Emptied Quiver (Mnesalcus);
+         The Tale of Troy (Alpheus); Heaven Hath its Stars
+         (Marcus Argentarius); Pan of the Sea-Cliff
+         (Archias); Anacreon's Grave (Antipater of Sidon);
+         Rest at Noon (Meleager); "In the Spring a Young
+         Man's Fancy" (Meleager); Meleager's Own Epitaph
+         (Meleager); Epilogue (Philodemus); Doctor and
+         Divinity (Nicarchus); Love's Immortality (Strato);
+         As the Flowers of the Field (Strato); Summer
+         Sailing (Antiphilus); The Great Mysteries
+         (Crinagoras); To Priapus of the Shore (Mæcius); The
+         Common Lot (Ammianus); "To-morrow, and To-morrow"
+         (Macedonius); The Palace Garden (Arabius); The
+         Young Wife (Julianus Ægyptius); A Nameless Grave
+         (Paulus Silentiarius); Resignation (Joannes
+         Barbucallus); The House of the Righteous
+         (Macedonius); Love's Ferriage (Agathias); On a
+         Fowler (Isidorus) Anonymous: Youth and Riches; The
+         Singing Reed; First Love again Remembered; Slave
+         and Philosopher; Good-by to Childhood; Wishing;
+         Hope and Experience; The Service of God; The Pure
+         in Heart; The Water of Purity; Rose and Thorn;
+         A Life's Wandering
+
+
+
+
+                       FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                              VOLUME XVI
+
+                                                                PAGE
+  The Alexander Romance (Colored Plate)                 Frontispiece
+  Gibbon (Portrait)                                             6271
+  Ruined Rome (Photograph)                                      6316
+  Gladstone (Portrait)                                          6359
+  Goethe (Portrait)                                             6385
+  "Faust and Margaret in Prison" (Photogravure)                 6408
+  "The Bride's Toilet" (Photogravure)                           6466
+  Goldoni (Portrait)                                            6475
+  Goldsmith (Portrait)                                          6501
+  Grant (Portrait)                                              6593
+  Gray (Portrait)                                               6623
+  "Stoke Poges Church and Churchyard" (Photogravure)            6626
+
+
+                          VIGNETTE PORTRAITS
+
+  Gilbert                               Goncharof
+  Gilder                                De Goncourt
+  Giusti                                Gottschall
+  Godkin                                Gower
+  Gogol                                 Grattan
+  Goldschmidt
+
+
+
+
+AULUS GELLIUS
+
+(SECOND CENTURY A. D.)
+
+
+Perhaps Gellius's 'Attic Nights' may claim especial mention here, as one
+of the earliest extant forerunners of this 'Library.' In the original
+preface (given first among the citations), Gellius explains very clearly
+the origin and scope of his work. It is not, however, a mere scrap-book.
+There is original matter in many chapters. In particular, an ethical or
+philosophic excerpt has often been framed in a little scene,--doubtless
+imaginary,--and cast in the form of a dialogue. We get, even, pleasant
+glimpses of autobiography from time to time. The author is not, however,
+a deep or forceful character, on the whole. His heart is mostly set on
+trifles.
+
+Yet Gellius has been an assiduous student, both in Greece and Italy; and
+his book gives us an agreeable, probably an adequate, view of the fields
+which are included in the general culture of his time. Despite its
+title, the work is chiefly Roman. In history, biography, antiquities,
+grammar, literary criticism, his materials and authors are prevailingly
+Latin. He is perhaps most widely known and quoted on early Roman life
+and usages. Thus, one of his chapters gives a mass of curious
+information as to the choice of the Vestal Virgins. We are also largely
+indebted to him for citations from lost authors. We have already quoted
+under Ennius the sketch, in eighteen hexameters, of a scholar-soldier,
+believed to be a genial self-portraiture. These lines are the finest
+specimen we have of the 'Annales.' Similarly, under Cato, we have quoted
+the chief fragment of the great Censor's Roman history. For both these
+treasures we must thank Gellius. Indeed, throughout the wide fields of
+Roman antiquities, history of literature, grammar, etc., we have to
+depend chiefly upon various late Latin scrap-books and compilations,
+most of which are not even made up at first hand from creative classical
+authors. To Gellius, also, the imposing array of writers so constantly
+named by him was evidently known chiefly through compendiums and
+handbooks. It is suspicious, for instance, that he hardly quotes a poet
+within a century of his own time. Repetitions, contradictions, etc., are
+numerous.
+
+Despite its twenty "books" and nearly four hundred (short) chapters, the
+work is not only light and readable for the most part, but quite modest
+in total bulk: five hundred and fifty pages in the small page and
+generous type of Hertz's Teubner text. There is an English translation
+by Rev. W. Beloe, first printed in 1795, from which we quote below.
+Professor Nettleship's (in his 'Essays in Latin Literature') has no
+literary quality, but gives a careful analysis of Gellius's subjects and
+probable sources. There is a revival of interest in this author in
+recent years. We decidedly recommend Hertz's attractive volume to any
+Latin student who wishes to browse beyond the narrow classical limits.
+
+
+
+FROM 'ATTIC NIGHTS'
+
+
+ORIGIN AND PLAN OF THE BOOK
+
+More pleasing works than the present may certainly be found: my object
+in writing this was to provide my children, as well as myself, with that
+kind of amusement in which they might properly relax and indulge
+themselves at the intervals from more important business. I have
+preserved the same accidental arrangement which I had before used in
+making the collection. Whatever book came into my hand, whether it was
+Greek or Latin, or whatever I heard that was either worthy of being
+recorded or agreeable to my fancy, I wrote down without distinction and
+without order. These things I treasured up to aid my memory, as it were
+by a store-house of learning; so that when I wanted to refer to any
+particular circumstance or word which I had at the moment forgotten, and
+the books from which they were taken happened not to be at hand, I could
+easily find and apply it. Thus the same irregularity will appear in
+these commentaries as existed in the original annotations, which were
+concisely written down without any method or arrangement in the course
+of what I at different times had heard or read. As these observations at
+first constituted my business and my amusement through many long winter
+nights which I spent in Attica, I have given them the name of 'Attic
+Nights.' ... It is an old proverb, "A jay has no concern with music, nor
+a hog with perfumes:" but that the ill-humor and invidiousness of
+certain ill-taught people may be still more exasperated, I shall borrow
+a few verses from a chorus of Aristophanes; and what he, a man of most
+exquisite humor, proposed as a law to the spectators of his play, I also
+recommend to the readers of this volume, that the vulgar and unhallowed
+herd, who are averse to the sports of the Muses, may not touch nor even
+approach it. The verses are these:--
+
+  Silent be they, and far from hence remove,
+  By scenes like ours not likely to improve,
+  Who never paid the honored Muse her rights,
+  Who senseless live in wild, impure delights;
+  I bid them once, I bid them twice begone,
+  I bid them thrice, in still a louder tone:
+  Far hence depart, whilst ye with dance and song
+  Our solemn feast, our tuneful nights prolong.
+
+
+THE VESTAL VIRGINS
+
+The writers on the subject of taking a Vestal Virgin, of whom Labeo
+Antistius is the most elaborate, have asserted that no one could be
+taken who was less than six or more than ten years old. Neither could
+she be taken unless both her father and mother were alive, if she had
+any defect of voice or hearing, or indeed any personal blemish, or if
+she herself or father had been made free; or if under the protection of
+her grandfather, her father being alive; if one or both of her parents
+were in actual servitude, or employed in mean occupations. She whose
+sister was in this character might plead exemption, as might she whose
+father was flamen, augur, one of the fifteen who had care of the sacred
+books, or one of the seventeen who regulated the sacred feasts, or a
+priest of Mars. Exemption was also granted to her who was betrothed to a
+pontiff, and to the daughter of the sacred trumpeter. Capito Ateius has
+also observed that the daughter of a man was ineligible who had no
+establishment in Italy, and that his daughter might be excused who had
+three children. But as soon as a Vestal Virgin is taken, conducted to
+the vestibule of Vesta, and delivered to the pontiffs, she is from that
+moment removed from her father's authority, without any form of
+emancipation or loss of rank, and has also the right of making her will.
+No more ancient records remain concerning the form and ceremony of
+taking a virgin, except that the first virgin was taken by King Numa.
+But we find a Papian law which provides that at the will of the supreme
+pontiff twenty virgins should be chosen from the people; that these
+should draw lots in the public assembly; and that the supreme pontiff
+might take her whose lot it was, to become the servant of Vesta. But
+this drawing of lots by the Papian law does not now seem necessary; for
+if any person of ingenuous birth goes to the pontiff and offers his
+daughter for this ministry, if she may be accepted without any violation
+of what the ceremonies of religion enjoin, the Senate dispenses with the
+Papian law. Moreover, a virgin is said to be taken, because she is taken
+by the hand of the high priest from that parent under whose authority
+she is, and led away as a captive in war. In the first book of Fabius
+Pictor, we have the form of words which the supreme pontiff is to repeat
+when he takes a virgin. It is this:--
+
+"I take thee, beloved, as a priestess of Vesta, to perform religious
+service, to discharge those duties with respect to the whole body of the
+Roman people which the law most wisely requires of a priestess of
+Vesta."
+
+It is also said in those commentaries of Labeo which he wrote on the
+Twelve Tables:--
+
+"No Vestal Virgin can be heiress to any intestate person of either sex.
+Such effects are said to belong to the public. It is inquired by what
+right this is done?" When taken she is called _amata_, or beloved, by
+the high priest; because Amata is said to have been the name of her who
+was first taken.
+
+
+THE SECRETS OF THE SENATE
+
+It was formerly usual for the senators of Rome to enter the Senate-house
+accompanied by their sons who had taken the prætexta. When something of
+superior importance was discussed in the Senate, and the further
+consideration adjourned to the day following, it was resolved that no
+one should divulge the subject of their debates till it should be
+formally decreed. The mother of the young Papirius, who had accompanied
+his father to the Senate-house, inquired of her son what the senators
+had been doing. The youth replied that he had been enjoined silence, and
+was not at liberty to say. The woman became more anxious to know; the
+secretness of the thing, and the silence of the youth, did but inflame
+her curiosity. She therefore urged him with more vehement earnestness.
+The young man, on the importunity of his mother, determined on a
+humorous and pleasant fallacy: he said it was discussed in the Senate,
+which would be most beneficial to the State--for one man to have two
+wives, or for one woman to have two husbands. As soon as she heard this
+she was much agitated, and leaving her house in great trepidation, went
+to tell the other matrons what she had learned. The next day a troop of
+matrons went to the Senate-house, and with tears and entreaties implored
+that one woman might be suffered to have two husbands, rather than one
+man to have two wives. The senators on entering the house were
+astonished, and wondered what this intemperate proceeding of the women,
+and their petition, could mean. The young Papirius, advancing to the
+midst of the Senate, explained the pressing importunity of his mother,
+his answer, and the matter as it was. The Senate, delighted with the
+honor and ingenuity of the youth, made a decree that from that time no
+youth should be suffered to enter the Senate with his father, this
+Papirius alone excepted.
+
+
+PLUTARCH AND HIS SLAVE
+
+Plutarch once ordered a slave, who was an impudent and worthless fellow,
+but who had paid some attention to books and philosophical disputations,
+to be stripped (I know not for what fault) and whipped. As soon as his
+punishment began, he averred that he did not deserve to be beaten; that
+he had been guilty of no offense or crime. As they went on whipping him,
+he called out louder, not with any cry of suffering or complaint, but
+gravely reproaching his master. Such behavior, he said, was unworthy of
+Plutarch; that anger disgraced a philosopher; that he had often disputed
+on the mischiefs of anger; that he had written a very excellent book
+about not giving place to anger; but that whatever he had said in that
+book was now contradicted by the furious and ungovernable anger with
+which he had now ordered him to be severely beaten. Plutarch then
+replied with deliberate calmness:--"But why, rascal, do I now seem to
+you to be in anger? Is it from my countenance, my voice, my color, or my
+words, that you conceive me to be angry? I cannot think that my eyes
+betray any ferocity, nor is my countenance disturbed or my voice
+boisterous; neither do I foam at the mouth, nor are my cheeks red; nor
+do I say anything indecent or to be repented of; nor do I tremble or
+seem greatly agitated. These, though you may not know it, are the usual
+signs of anger." Then, turning to the person who was whipping him:
+"Whilst this man and I," said he, "are disputing, do you go on with your
+employment."
+
+
+DISCUSSION ON ONE OF SOLON'S LAWS
+
+In those very ancient laws of Solon which were inscribed at Athens on
+wooden tables, and which, from veneration to him, the Athenians, to
+render eternal, had sanctioned with punishments and religious oaths,
+Aristotle relates there was one to this effect: If in any tumultuous
+dissension a sedition should ensue, and the people divide themselves
+into two parties, and from this irritation of their minds both sides
+should take arms and fight; then he who in this unfortunate period of
+civil discord should join himself to neither party, but should
+individually withdraw himself from the common calamity of the city,
+should be deprived of his house, his family and fortunes, and be driven
+into exile from his country. When I had read this law of Solon, who was
+eminent for his wisdom, I was at first impressed with great
+astonishment, wondering for what reason he should think those men
+deserving of punishment who withdrew themselves from sedition and a
+civil war. Then a person who had profoundly and carefully examined the
+use and purport of this law, affirmed that it was calculated not to
+increase but terminate sedition; and indeed it really is so, for if all
+the more respectable, who were at first unable to check sedition, and
+could not overawe the divided and infatuated people, join themselves to
+one part or other, it will happen that when they are divided on both
+sides, and each party begins to be ruled and moderated by them, as men
+of superior influence, harmony will by their means be sooner restored
+and confirmed; for whilst they regulate and temper their own parties
+respectively, they would rather see their opponents conciliated than
+destroyed. Favorinus the philosopher was of opinion that the same thing
+ought to be done in the disputes of brothers and of friends: that they
+who are benevolently inclined to both sides, but have little influence
+in restoring harmony, from being considered as doubtful friends, should
+decidedly take one part or other; by which act they will obtain more
+effectual power in restoring harmony to both. At present, says he, the
+friends of both think they do well by leaving and deserting both, thus
+giving them up to malignant or sordid lawyers, who inflame their
+resentments and disputes from animosity or from avarice.
+
+
+THE NATURE OF SIGHT
+
+I have remarked various opinions among philosophers concerning the
+causes of sight and the nature of vision. The Stoics affirm the causes
+of sight to be an emission of radii from the eyes against those things
+which are capable of being seen, with an expansion at the same time of
+the air. But Epicurus thinks that there proceed from all bodies certain
+images of the bodies themselves, and that these impress themselves upon
+the eyes, and that thence arises the sense of sight. Plato is of opinion
+that a species of fire and light issues from the eyes, and that this,
+being united and continued either with the light of the sun or the light
+of some other fire, by its own, added to the external force, enables us
+to see whatever it meets and illuminates.
+
+But on these things it is not worth while to trifle further; and I recur
+to an opinion of the Neoptolemus of Ennius, whom I have before
+mentioned: he thinks that we should taste of philosophy, but not plunge
+in it over head and ears.
+
+
+EARLIEST LIBRARIES
+
+Pisistratus the tyrant is said to have been the first who supplied books
+of the liberal sciences at Athens for public use. Afterwards the
+Athenians themselves with great care and pains increased their number;
+but all this multitude of books, Xerxes, when he obtained possession of
+Athens and burned the whole of the city except the citadel, seized and
+carried away to Persia. But King Seleucus, who was called Nicanor, many
+years afterwards, was careful that all of them should be again carried
+back to Athens.
+
+A prodigious number of books were in succeeding times collected by the
+Ptolemies in Egypt, to the amount of near seven hundred thousand
+volumes. But in the first Alexandrine war the whole library, during the
+plunder of the city, was destroyed by fire; not by any concerted design,
+but accidentally by the auxiliary soldiers.
+
+
+REALISTIC ACTING
+
+There was an actor in Greece of great celebrity, superior to the rest in
+the grace and harmony of his voice and action. His name, it is said, was
+Polus, and he acted in the tragedies of the more eminent poets, with
+great knowledge and accuracy. This Polus lost by death his only and
+beloved son. When he had sufficiently indulged his natural grief, he
+returned to his employment. Being at this time to act the 'Electra' of
+Sophocles at Athens, it was his part to carry an urn as containing the
+bones of Orestes. The argument of the fable is so imagined that Electra,
+who is presumed to carry the relics of her brother, laments and
+commiserates his end, who is believed to have died a violent death.
+Polus, therefore, clad in the mourning habit of Electra, took from the
+tomb the bones and urn of his son, and as if embracing Orestes, filled
+the place, not with the image and imitation, but with the sighs and
+lamentations of unfeigned sorrow. Therefore, when a fable seemed to be
+represented, real grief was displayed.
+
+
+THE ATHLETE'S END
+
+Milo of Crotona, a celebrated wrestler, who as is recorded was crowned
+in the fiftieth Olympiad, met with a lamentable and extraordinary death.
+When, now an old man, he had desisted from his athletic art and was
+journeying alone in the woody parts of Italy, he saw an oak very near
+the roadside, gaping in the middle of the trunk, with its branches
+extended: willing, I suppose, to try what strength he had left, he put
+his fingers into the fissure of the tree, and attempted to pluck aside
+and separate the oak, and did actually tear and divide it in the middle;
+but when the oak was thus split in two, and he relaxed his hold as
+having accomplished his intention, upon a cessation of the force it
+returned to its natural position, and left the man, when it united, with
+his hands confined, to be torn by wild beasts.
+
+                                       Translation of Rev. W. Beloe.
+
+
+
+
+GESTA ROMANORUM
+
+
+What are the 'Gesta Romanorum'? The most curious and interesting of all
+collections of popular tales. Negatively, one thing they are not: that
+is, they are not _Deeds of the Romans_, the acts of the heirs of the
+Cæsars. All such allusions are the purest fantasy. The great "citee of
+Rome," and some oddly dubbed emperor thereof, indeed the entire
+background, are in truth as unhistorical and imaginary as the tale
+itself.
+
+Such stories are very old. So far back did they spring that it would be
+idle to conjecture their origin. In the centuries long before Caxton,
+the centuries before manuscript-writing filled up the leisure hours of
+the monks, the 'Gesta,' both in the Orient and in the Occident, were
+brought forth. Plain, direct, and unvarnished, they are the form in
+which the men of ideas of those rude times approached and entertained,
+by accounts of human joy and woe, their brother men of action. Every
+race of historic importance, from the eastern Turanians to the western
+Celts, has produced such legends. Sometimes they delight the lover of
+folk-lore; sometimes they belong to the Dryasdust antiquarian. But our
+'Gesta,' with their directness and naïveté, with their occasional beauty
+of diction and fine touches of sympathy and imagination,--even with
+their Northern lack of grace,--are properly a part of literature. In
+these 'Deeds' is found the plot or ground-plan of such master works as
+'King Lear' and the 'Merchant of Venice,' and the first cast of material
+refined by Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate, Schiller, and other writers.
+
+Among the people in mediaeval times such tales evidently passed from
+mouth to mouth. They were the common food of fancy and delight to our
+forefathers, as they gathered round the fire in stormy weather. Their
+recital enlivened the women's unnumbered hours of spinning, weaving, and
+embroidery. As the short days of the year came on, there must have been
+calls for 'The Knights of Baldak and Lombardy,' 'The Three Caskets,' or
+'The White and Black Daughters,' as nowadays we go to our book-shelves
+for the stories that the race still loves, and ungraciously enjoy the
+silent telling.
+
+Such folk-stories as those in the 'Gesta' are in the main made of, must
+have passed from district to district and even from nation to nation, by
+many channels,--chief among them the constant wanderings of monks and
+minstrels,--becoming the common heritage of many peoples, and passing
+from secular to sacerdotal use. The mediæval Church, with the acuteness
+that characterized it, seized on the pretty tales, and adding to them
+the moralizing which a crude system of ethics enjoined, carried its
+spoils to the pulpit. Even the fables of pagan Æsop were thus employed.
+
+In the twelfth century the ecclesiastical forces were appropriating to
+their use whatever secular rights and possessions came within their
+grasp. A common ardor permitted and sustained this aggrandizement, and
+the devotion that founded and swelled the mendicant orders of Francis
+and Dominic, and led the populace to carry with prayers and
+psalm-singing the stones of which great cathedrals were built, readily
+gave their hearth-tales to illustrate texts and inculcate doctrines. A
+habit of interpreting moral and religious precepts by allegory led to
+the far-fetched, sometimes droll, and always naive "moralities" which
+commonly follow each one of the 'Gesta.' The more popular the tale, the
+more easily it held the attention; and the priests with telling
+directness brought home the moral to the simple-minded. The innocent
+joys and sad offenses of humanity interpreted the Church's whole system
+of theology, and the stories, committed to writing by the priests, were
+thus preserved.
+
+The secular tales must have been used in the pulpit for some time before
+their systematic collection was undertaken. The zeal for compiling
+probably reached its height in the age of Pierre Bercheure, who died in
+1362. To Bercheure, prior of the Benedictine Convent of St. Eloi at
+Paris, the collection of 'Gesta Romanorum' has been ascribed. A German
+scholar, however, Herr Österley, who published in 1872 the result of an
+investigation of one hundred and sixty-five manuscripts, asserts that
+the 'Gesta' were originally compiled towards the end of the thirteenth
+century in England, from which country they were taken to the Continent,
+there undergoing various alterations. "The popularity of the original
+'Gesta,'" says Sir F. Madden, "not only on the Continent but among the
+English clergy, appears to have induced some person, apparently in the
+reign of Richard the Second, to undertake a similar compilation in this
+country." The 'Anglo-Latin Gesta' is the immediate original of the early
+English translation from which the following stories are taken, with
+slight verbal changes.
+
+The word _Gesta_, in mediæval Latin, means notable or historic act or
+exploit. The Church, drawing all power, consequence, and grace from
+Rome, naturally looked back to the Roman empire for historic examples.
+In this fact we find the reason of the name. The tales betray an entire
+ignorance of history. In one, for example, a statue is raised to Julius
+Cæsar twenty-two years after the founding of Rome; while in another,
+Socrates, Alexander, and the Emperor Claudius are living together in
+Rome.
+
+It is a pleasant picture which such legends bring before our eyes. The
+old parish church of England, which with its yards is a common
+meeting-place for the people's fairs and wakes, and even for their
+beer-brewing; the simple rustics forming the congregation; the tonsured
+head of the priest rising above the pulpit,--a monk from the neighboring
+abbey, who earns his brown bread and ale and venison by endeavors to
+move the moral sentiments which lie at the root of the Anglo-Saxon
+character and beneath the apparent stolidity of each yokel. Many of the
+tales are unfit for reproduction in our more mincing times. The
+faithlessness of wives--with no reference whatever to the faithlessness
+of husbands--is a favorite theme with these ancient cenobites.
+
+It is possible, Herr Österley thinks, that the conjecture of Francis
+Douce may be true, and the 'Gesta' may after all have been compiled in
+Germany. But the bulk of the evidence goes to prove an English origin.
+The earliest editions were published at Utrecht and at Cologne. The
+English translation, from the text of the Latin of the reign of Richard
+II., was first printed by Wynkyn de Worde between 1510 and 1515. In 1577
+Richard Robinson published a revised edition of Wynkyn de Worde's. The
+work became again popular, and between 1648 and 1703 at least eight
+issues were sold. An English translation by Charles Swan from the Latin
+text was first published in 1824, and reissued under the editorship of
+Thomas Wright in 1872 as a part of Bohn's Library.
+
+
+
+THEODOSIUS THE EMPEROURE[A]
+
+
+Theodosius reigned a wise emperour in the cite of Rome, and mighty he
+was of power; the which emperoure had three doughters. So it liked to
+this emperour to knowe which of his doughters loved him best; and then
+he said to the eldest doughter, "How much lovest thou me?" "Forsoth,"
+quoth she, "more than I do myself." "Therefore," quoth he, "thou shalt
+be heighly advanced;" and married her to a riche and mighty kyng. Then
+he came to the second, and said to her, "Doughter, how muche lovest thou
+me?" "As muche forsoth," she said, "as I do myself." So the emperoure
+married her to a duke. And then he said to the third doughter, "How much
+lovest thou me?" "Forsoth," quoth she, "as muche as ye be worthy, and no
+more." Then said the emperoure, "Doughter, since thou lovest me no more,
+thou shalt not be married so richely as thy sisters be." And then he
+married her to an earl.
+
+    [A] The story of King Lear and his three daughters.
+
+After this it happened that the emperour held battle against the Kyng of
+Egipt, and the kyng drove the emperour oute of the empire, in so muche
+that the emperour had no place to abide inne. So he wrote lettres
+ensealed with his ryng to his first doughter that said that she loved
+him more than her self, for to pray her of succoring in that great need,
+bycause he was put out of his empire. And when the doughter had red
+these lettres she told it to the kyng her husband. Then quoth the kyng,
+"It is good that we succor him in his need. I shall," quoth he, "gather
+an host and help him in all that I can or may; and that will not be done
+withoute great costage." "Yea," quoth she, "it were sufficiant if that
+we would graunt him V knyghtes to be fellowship with him while he is
+oute of his empire." And so it was done indeed; and the doughter wrote
+again to the fader that other help might he not have, but V knyghtes of
+the kynges to be in his fellowship, at the coste of the kyng her
+husband.
+
+And when the emperour heard this he was hevy in his hert and said,
+"Alas! alas! all my trust was in her; for she said she loved me more
+than herself, and therefore I advanced her so high."
+
+Then he wrote to the second, that said she loved him as much as her
+self. And when she had herd his lettres she shewed his erand to her
+husband, and gave him in counsel that he should find him mete and drink
+and clothing, honestly as for the state of such a lord, during tyme of
+his nede; and when this was graunted she wrote lettres agein to hir
+fadir.
+
+The Emperour was hevy with this answere, and said, "Since my two
+doughters have thus grieved me, in sooth I shall prove the third."
+
+And so he wrote to the third that she loved him as muche as he was
+worthy; and prayed her of succor in his nede, and told her the answere
+of her two sisters. So the third doughter, when she considered the
+mischief of her fader, she told her husbond in this fourme: "My
+worshipful lord, do succor me now in this great nede; my fadir is put
+out of his empire and his heritage." Then spake he, "What were thy will
+I did thereto?" "That ye gather a great host," quoth she, "and help him
+to fight against his enemys." "I shall fulfill thy will," said the earl;
+and gathered a greate hoste and wente with the emperour at his owne
+costage to the battle, and had the victorye, and set the emperour again
+in his heritage.
+
+And then said the emperour, "Blessed be the hour I gat my yonest
+doughter! I loved her lesse than any of the others, and now in my nede
+she hath succored me, and the others have failed me, and therefore after
+my deth she shall have mine empire." And so it was done in dede; for
+after the deth of the emperour the youngest doughter reigned in his
+sted, and ended peacefully.
+
+
+
+MORALITE
+
+
+Dere Frendis, this emperour may be called each worldly man, the which
+hath three doughters. The first doughter, that saith, "I love my fadir
+more than my self," is the worlde, whom a man loveth so well that he
+expendeth all his life about it; but what tyme he shall be in nede of
+deth, scarcely if the world will for all his love give him five
+knyghtes, _scil._ v. boards for a coffin to lay his body inne in the
+sepulcre. The second doughter, that loveth her fader as muche as her
+selfe, is thy wife or thy children or thy kin, the whiche will haply
+find thee in thy nede to the tyme that thou be put in the erthe. And the
+third doughter, that loveth thee as muche as thou art worthy, is our
+Lord God, whom we love too little. But if we come to him in tyme of oure
+nede with a clene hert and mynd, withoute doute we shall have help of
+him against the Kyng of Egipt, _scil._ the Devil; and he shall set us in
+our owne heritage, _scil._ the kyngdome of heven. _Ad quod nos_ [etc.].
+
+
+
+ANCELMUS THE EMPEROUR[B]
+
+
+Ancelmus reigned emperour in the cite of Rome, and he wedded to wife
+the Kinges doughter of Jerusalem, the which was a faire woman and long
+dwelte in his company.
+
+    [B] The story of the three caskets in 'The Merchant of
+    Venice.'
+
+... Happing in a certaine evening as he walked after his supper in a
+fair green, and thought of all the worlde, and especially that he had no
+heir, and how that the Kinge of Naples strongly therefore noyed [harmed]
+him each year; and so whenne it was night he went to bed and took a
+sleep and dreamed this: He saw the firmament in its most clearnesse, and
+more clear than it was wont to be, and the moon was more pale; and on a
+parte of the moon was a faire-colored bird, and beside her stood two
+beasts, the which nourished the bird with their heat and breath. After
+this came divers beasts and birds flying, and they sang so sweetly that
+the emperour was with the song awaked.
+
+Thenne on the morrow the emperoure had great marvel of his sweven
+[dream], and called to him divinours [soothsayers] and lords of all the
+empire, and saide to them, "Deere frendes, telleth me what is the
+interpretation of my sweven, and I shall reward you; and but if ye do,
+ye shall be dead." And then they saide, "Lord, show to us this dream,
+and we shall tell thee the interpretation of it." And then the emperour
+told them as is saide before, from beginning to ending. And then they
+were glad, and with a great gladnesse spake to him and saide, "Sir, this
+was a good sweven. For the firmament that thou sawe so clear is the
+empire, the which henceforth shall be in prosperity; the pale moon is
+the empresse.... The little bird is the faire son whom the empresse
+shall bryng forth, when time cometh; the two beasts been riche men and
+wise men that shall be obedient to thy childe; the other beasts been
+other folke, that never made homage and nowe shall be subject to thy
+sone; the birds that sang so sweetly is the empire of Rome, that shall
+joy of thy child's birth: and sir, this is the interpretacion of your
+dream."
+
+When the empresse heard this she was glad enough; and soon she bare a
+faire sone, and thereof was made much joy. And when the King of Naples
+heard that, he thought to himselfe: "I have longe time holden war
+against the emperour, and it may not be but that it will be told to his
+son, when that he cometh to his full age, howe that I have fought all my
+life against his fader. Yea," thought he, "he is now a child, and it is
+good that I procure for peace, that I may have rest of him when he is in
+his best and I in my worste."
+
+So he wrote lettres to the emperour for peace to be had; and the
+emperour seeing that he did that more for cause of dread than of love,
+he sent him worde again, and saide that he would make him surety of
+peace, with condition that he would be in his servitude and yield him
+homage all his life, each year. Thenne the kyng called his counsel and
+asked of them what was best to do; and the lordes of his kyngdom saide
+that it was goode to follow the emperour in his will:--"In the first ye
+aske of him surety of peace; to that we say thus: Thou hast a doughter
+and he hath a son; let matrimony be made between them, and so there
+shall be good sikernesse [sureness]; also it is good to make him homage
+and yield him rents." Thenne the kyng sent word to the emperour and
+saide that he would fulfill his will in all points, and give his
+doughter to his son in wife, if that it were pleasing to him.
+
+This answer liked well the emperour. So lettres were made of this
+covenaunt; and he made a shippe to be adeyned [prepared], to lead his
+doughter with a certain of knightes and ladies to the emperour to be
+married with his sone. And whenne they were in the shippe and hadde far
+passed from the lande, there rose up a great horrible tempest, and
+drowned all that were in the ship, except the maid. Thenne the maide set
+all her hope strongly in God; and at the last the tempest ceased; but
+then followed strongly a great whale to devoure this maid. And whenne
+she saw that, she muche dreaded; and when the night come, the maid,
+dreading that the whale would have swallowed the ship, smote fire at a
+stone, and had great plenty of fire; and as long as the fire lasted the
+whale durst come not near, but about cock's crow the mayde, for great
+vexacion that she had with the tempest, fell asleep, and in her sleep
+the fire went out; and when it was out the whale came nigh and swallowed
+both the ship and the mayde. And when the mayde felt that she was in the
+womb of a whale, she smote and made great fire, and grievously wounded
+the whale with a little knife, in so much that the whale drew to the
+land and died; for that is the kind to draw to the land when he shall
+die.
+
+And in this time there was an earl named Pirius, and he walked in his
+disport by the sea, and afore him he sawe the whale come toward the
+land. He gathered great help and strength of men; and with diverse
+instruments they smote the whale in every part of him. And when the
+damsell heard the great strokes she cried with an high voice and saide,
+"Gentle sirs, have pity on me, for I am the doughter of a king, and a
+mayde have been since I was born." Whenne the earl heard this he
+marveled greatly, and opened the whale and took oute the damsell. Thenne
+the maide tolde by order how that she was a kyng's doughter, and how she
+lost her goods in the sea, and how she should be married to the son of
+the emperour. And when the earl heard these words he was glad, and helde
+the maide with him a great while, till tyme that she was well comforted;
+and then he sent her solemnly to the emperour. And whenne he saw her
+coming, and heard that she had tribulacions in the sea, he had great
+compassion for her in his heart, and saide to her, "Goode damsell, thou
+hast suffered muche anger for the love of my son; nevertheless, if that
+thou be worthy to have him I shall soon prove."
+
+The emperour had made III. vessells, and the first was of clean [pure]
+golde and full of precious stones outwarde, and within full of dead
+bones; and it had a superscription in these words: _They that choose me
+shall find in me that they deserve._ The second vessell was all of clean
+silver, and full of worms: and outwarde it had this superscription:
+_They that choose me shall find in me that nature and kind desireth._
+And the third vessell was of lead and within was full of precious
+stones, and without was set this scripture [inscription]: _They that
+choose me shall find in me that God hath disposed._ These III. vessells
+tooke the emperour and showed the maide, saying, "Lo! deer damsell, here
+are three worthy vessellys, and if thou choose [the] one of these
+wherein is profit and right to be chosen, then thou shalt have my son to
+husband; and if thou choose that that is not profitable to thee nor to
+no other, forsooth, thenne thou shalt not have him."
+
+Whenne the doughter heard this and saw the three vessells, she lifted up
+her eyes to God and saide:--"Thou, Lord, that knowest all things, graunt
+me thy grace now in the need of this time, _scil._ that I may choose at
+this time, wherethrough [through which] I may joy the son of the
+emperour and have him to husband." Thenne she beheld the first vessell
+that was so subtly [cunningly] made, and read the superscription; and
+thenne she thought, "What have I deserved for to have so precious a
+vessell? and though it be never so gay without, I know not how foul it
+is within;" so she tolde the emperour that she would by no way choose
+that. Thenne she looked to the second, that was of silver, and read the
+superscription; and thenne she said, "My nature and kind asketh but
+delectation of the flesh, forsooth, sir," quoth she; "and I refuse
+this." Thenne she looked to the third, that was of lead, and read the
+superscription, and then she, saide, "In sooth, God disposed never evil;
+forsooth, that which God hath disposed will I take and choose."
+
+And when the emperour sawe that he saide, "Goode damesell, open now that
+vessell and see what thou hast found." And when it was opened it was
+full of gold and precious stones. And thenne the emperour saide to her
+again, "Damesell, thou hast wisely chosen and won my son to thine
+husband." So the day was set of their bridal, and great joy was made;
+and the son reigned after the decease of the fadir, the which made faire
+ende. _Ad quod nos perducat!_ Amen.
+
+
+
+MORALITE
+
+
+Deere frendis, this emperour is the Father of Heaven, the whiche made
+man ere he tooke flesh. The empress that conceived was the blessed
+Virgin, that conceived by the annunciation of the angel. The firmament
+was set in his most clearnesse, _scil._ the world was lighted in all its
+parts by the concepcion of the empress Our Lady.... The little bird that
+passed from the side of the moon is our Lord Jesus Christ, that was born
+at midnight and lapped [wrapped] in clothes and set in the crib. The two
+beasts are the oxen and the asses. The beasts that come from far parts
+are the herds [shepherds] to whom the angels saide, _Ecce annuncio vobis
+gaudium magnum_,--"Lo! I shew you a great joy." The birds that sang so
+sweetly are angels of heaven, that sang _Gloria in excelsis Deo_. The
+king that held such war is mankind, that was contrary to God while that
+it was in power of the Devil; but when our Lord Jesus Christ was born,
+then mankind inclined to God, and sent for peace to be had, when he took
+baptism and saide that he gave him to God and forsook the Devil. Now the
+king gave his doughter to the son of the emperour, _scil._ each one of
+us ought to give to God our soul in matrimony; for he is ready to
+receive her to his spouse [etc.].
+
+
+
+HOW AN ANCHORESS WAS TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL
+
+
+There was a woman some time in the world living that sawe the
+wretchedness, the sins, and the unstableness that was in the worlde;
+therefore she left all the worlde, and wente into the deserte, and lived
+there many years with roots and grasse, and such fruit as she might
+gete; and dranke water of the welle-spryng, for othere livelihood had
+she none. Atte laste, when she had longe dwelled there in that place,
+the Devil in likenesse of a woman, come to this holy woman's place; and
+when he come there he knocked at the door. The holy woman come to the
+door and asked what she would? She saide, "I pray thee, dame, that thou
+wilt harbor me this night; for this day is at an end, and I am afeard
+that wild beasts should devour me." The good woman saide, "For God's
+love ye are welcome to me; and take such as God sendeth." They sat them
+down together, and the good woman sat and read saints' lives and other
+good things, till she come to this writing, "Every tree that bringeth
+not forth good fruit shall be caste downe, and burnt in helle." "That is
+sooth," saide the Fiend, "and therefore I am adread; for if we lead oure
+life alone, therefore we shall have little meed, for when we dwelle
+alone we profit none but oure self. Therefore it were better, me
+thinketh, to go and dwelle among folke, for to give example to man and
+woman dwelling in this worlde. Then shall we have much meed." When this
+was saide they went to reste. This good woman thought faste in her heart
+that she might not sleep nor have no rest, for the thing that the Fiend
+had said. Anon this woman arose and saide to the other woman, "This
+night might I have no reste for the words that thou saide yester even.
+Therefore I wot never what is best to be done for us." Then the Devil
+said to her again, "It is best to go forth to profit to othere that
+shall be glad of oure coming, for that is much more worth than to live
+alone." Then saide the woman to the Fiend, "Go we now forthe on oure
+way, for me thinketh it is not evil to essay." And when she should go
+oute at the door, she stood still, and said thus, "Now, sweet Lady,
+Mother of mercy, and help at all need, now counsell me the beste, and
+keep me both body and soule from deadly sin." When she had said these
+words with good heart and with good will, oure Lady come and laide her
+hande on her breast, and put her in again, and bade her that she should
+abide there, and not be led by falsehood of oure Enemy. The Fiend anon
+went away that she saw him no more there. Then she was full fain that
+she was kept and not beguiled of her enemy. Then she said on this wise
+to oure Blessed Lady that is full of mercy and goodnesse, "I thanke thee
+nowe with all my heart, specially for this keeping and many more that
+thou hast done to me oft since; and good Lady, keep me from
+henceforward." Lo! here may men and women see how ready this good Lady
+is to help her servants at all their need, when they call to her for
+help, that they fall not in sin bestirring of the wicked enemy the false
+Fiend.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: EDWARD GIBBON.]
+
+
+
+
+EDWARD GIBBON
+
+(1737-1794)
+
+BY W. E. H. LECKY
+
+
+The history of Gibbon has been described by John Stuart Mill as the only
+eighteenth-century history that has withstood nineteenth-century
+criticism; and whatever objections modern critics may bring against some
+of its parts, the substantial justice of this verdict will scarcely be
+contested. No other history of that century has been so often reprinted,
+annotated, and discussed, or remains to the present day a capital
+authority on the great period of which it treats. As a composition it
+stands unchallenged and conspicuous among the masterpieces of English
+literature, while as a history it covers a space of more than twelve
+hundred years, including some of the most momentous events in the annals
+of mankind.
+
+Gibbon was born at Putney, Surrey, April 27th, 1737. Though his father
+was a member of Parliament and the owner of a moderate competence, the
+author of this great work was essentially a self-educated man. Weak
+health and almost constant illness in early boyhood broke up his school
+life,--which appears to have been fitfully and most imperfectly
+conducted,--withdrew him from boyish games, but also gave him, as it has
+given to many other shy and sedentary boys, an early and inveterate
+passion for reading. His reading, however, was very unlike that of an
+ordinary boy. He has given a graphic picture of the ardor with which,
+when he was only fourteen, he flung himself into serious but unguided
+study; which was at first purely desultory, but gradually contracted
+into historic lines, and soon concentrated itself mainly on that
+Oriental history which he was one day so brilliantly to illuminate.
+"Before I was sixteen," he says, "I had exhausted all that could be
+learned in English of the Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks; and
+the same ardor led me to guess at the French of D'Herbelot, and to
+construe the barbarous Latin of Pocock's 'Abulfaragius.'"
+
+His health however gradually improved, and when he entered Magdalen
+College, Oxford, it might have been expected that a new period of
+intellectual development would have begun; but Oxford had at this time
+sunk to the lowest depth of stagnation, and to Gibbon it proved
+extremely uncongenial. He complained that he found no guidance, no
+stimulus, and no discipline, and that the fourteen months he spent
+there were the most idle and unprofitable of his life. They were very
+unexpectedly cut short by his conversion to the Roman Catholic faith,
+which he formally adopted at the age of sixteen.
+
+This conversion is, on the whole, the most surprising incident of his
+calm and uneventful life. The tendencies of the time, both in England
+and on the Continent, were in a wholly different direction. The more
+spiritual and emotional natures were now passing into the religious
+revival of Wesley and Whitefield, which was slowly transforming the
+character of the Anglican Church and laying the foundations of the great
+Evangelical party. In other quarters the predominant tendencies were
+towards unbelief, skepticism, or indifference. Nature seldom formed a
+more skeptical intellect than that of Gibbon, and he was utterly without
+the spiritual insight, or spiritual cravings, or overmastering
+enthusiasms, that produce and explain most religious changes. Nor was he
+in the least drawn towards Catholicism on its aesthetic side. He had
+never come in contact with its worship or its professors; and to his
+unimaginative, unimpassioned, and profoundly intellectual temperament,
+no ideal type could be more uncongenial than that of the saint. He had
+however from early youth been keenly interested in theological
+controversies. He argued, like Lardner and Paley, that miracles are the
+Divine attestation of orthodoxy. Middleton convinced him that unless the
+Patristic writers were wholly undeserving of credit, the gift of
+miracles continued in the Church during the fourth and fifth centuries;
+and he was unable to resist the conclusion that during that period many
+of the leading doctrines of Catholicism had passed into the Church. The
+writings of the Jesuit Parsons, and still more the writings of Bossuet,
+completed the work which Middleton had begun. Having arrived at this
+conclusion, Gibbon acted on it with characteristic honesty, and was
+received into the Church on the 8th of June, 1753.
+
+The English universities were at this time purely Anglican bodies, and
+the conversion of Gibbon excluded him from Oxford. His father
+judiciously sent him to Lausanne to study with a Swiss pastor named
+Pavilliard, with whom he spent five happy and profitable years. The
+theological episode was soon terminated. Partly under the influence of
+his teacher, but much more through his own reading and reflections, he
+soon disentangled the purely intellectual ties that bound him to the
+Church of Rome; and on Christmas Day, 1754, he received the sacrament in
+the Protestant church of Lausanne.
+
+His residence at Lausanne was very useful to him. He had access to books
+in abundance, and his tutor, who was a man of great good sense and
+amiability but of no remarkable capacity, very judiciously left his
+industrious pupil to pursue his studies in his own way. "Hiving wisdom
+with each studious year," as Byron so truly says, he speedily amassed a
+store of learning which has seldom been equaled. His insatiable love of
+knowledge, his rare capacity for concentrated, accurate, and fruitful
+study, guided by a singularly sure and masculine judgment, soon made
+him, in the true sense of the word, one of the best scholars of his
+time. His learning, however, was not altogether of the kind that may be
+found in a great university professor. Though the classical languages
+became familiar to him, he never acquired or greatly valued the minute
+and finished scholarship which is the boast of the chief English
+schools; and careful students have observed that in following Greek
+books he must have very largely used the Latin translations. Perhaps in
+his capacity of historian this deficiency was rather an advantage than
+the reverse. It saved him from the exaggerated value of classical form,
+and from the neglect of the more corrupt literatures, to which English
+scholars have been often prone. Gibbon always valued books mainly for
+what they contained, and he had early learned the lesson which all good
+historians should learn: that some of his most valuable materials will
+be found in literatures that have no artistic merit; in writers who,
+without theory and almost without criticism, simply relate the facts
+which they have seen, and express in unsophisticated language the
+beliefs and impressions of their time.
+
+Lausanne and not Oxford was the real birthplace of his intellect, and he
+returned from it almost a foreigner. French had become as familiar to
+him as his own tongue; and his first book, a somewhat superficial essay
+on the study of literature, was published in the French language. The
+noble contemporary French literature filled him with delight, and he
+found on the borders of the Lake of Geneva a highly cultivated society
+to which he was soon introduced, and which probably gave him more real
+pleasure than any in which he afterwards moved. With Voltaire himself he
+had some slight acquaintance, and he at one time looked on him with
+profound admiration; though fuller knowledge made him sensible of the
+flaws in that splendid intellect. I am here concerned with the life of
+Gibbon only in as far as it discloses the influences that contributed to
+his master work, and among these influences the foreign element holds a
+prominent place. There was little in Gibbon that was distinctively
+English; his mind was essentially cosmopolitan. His tastes, ideals, and
+modes of thought and feeling turned instinctively to the Continent.
+
+In one respect this foreign type was of great advantage to his work.
+Gibbon excels all other English historians in symmetry, proportion,
+perspective, and arrangement, which are also the pre-eminent and
+characteristic merits of the best French literature. We find in his
+writing nothing of the great miscalculations of space that were made by
+such writers as Macaulay and Buckle; nothing of the awkward repetitions,
+the confused arrangement, the semi-detached and disjointed episodes that
+mar the beauty of many other histories of no small merit. Vast and
+multifarious as are the subjects which he has treated, his work is a
+great whole, admirably woven in all its parts. On the other hand, his
+foreign taste may perhaps be seen in his neglect of the Saxon element,
+which is the most vigorous and homely element in English prose. Probably
+in no other English writer does the Latin element so entirely
+predominate. Gibbon never wrote an unmeaning and very seldom an obscure
+sentence; he could always paint with sustained and stately eloquence an
+illustrious character or a splendid scene: but he was wholly wanting in
+the grace of simplicity, and a monotony of glitter and of mannerism is
+the great defect of his style. He possessed, to a degree which even
+Tacitus and Bacon had hardly surpassed, the supreme literary gift of
+condensation, and it gives an admirable force and vividness to his
+narrative; but it is sometimes carried to excess. Not unfrequently it is
+attained by an excessive allusiveness, and a wide knowledge of the
+subject is needed to enable the reader to perceive the full import and
+meaning conveyed or hinted at by a mere turn of phrase. But though his
+style is artificial and pedantic, and greatly wanting in flexibility, it
+has a rare power of clinging to the memory, and it has profoundly
+influenced English prose. That excellent judge Cardinal Newman has said
+of Gibbon, "I seem to trace his vigorous condensation and peculiar
+rhythm at every turn in the literature of the present day."
+
+It is not necessary to relate here in any detail the later events of the
+life of Gibbon. There was his enlistment as captain in the Hampshire
+militia. It involved two and a half years of active service, extending
+from May 1760 to December 1762; and as Gibbon afterwards acknowledged,
+if it interrupted his studies and brought him into very uncongenial
+duties and societies, it at least greatly enlarged his acquaintance with
+English life, and also gave him a knowledge of the rudiments of military
+science, which was not without its use to the historian of so many
+battles. There was a long journey, lasting for two years and five
+months, in France and Italy, which greatly confirmed his foreign
+tendencies. In Paris he moved familiarly in some of the best French
+literary society; and in Rome, as he tells us in a well-known passage,
+while he sat "musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol while the
+barefooted friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter" (which
+is now the Church of the Ara Coeli),--on October 15th, 1764,--he first
+conceived the idea of writing the history of the decline and fall of
+Rome.
+
+There was also that very curious episode in his life, lasting from 1774
+to 1782,--his appearance in the House of Commons. He had declined an
+offer of his father's to purchase a seat for him in 1760; and fourteen
+years later, when his father was dead, when his own circumstances were
+considerably contracted, he received and accepted at the hands of a
+family connection the offer of a seat. His Parliamentary career was
+entirely undistinguished, and he never even opened his mouth in
+debate,--a fact which was not forgotten when very recently another
+historian was candidate for a seat in Parliament. In truth, this
+somewhat shy and reserved scholar, with his fastidious taste, his
+eminently judicial mind, and his highly condensed and elaborate style,
+was singularly unfit for the rough work of Parliamentary discussion. No
+one can read his books without perceiving that his English was not that
+of a debater; and he has candidly admitted that he entered Parliament
+without public spirit or serious interest in politics, and that he
+valued it chiefly as leading to an office which might restore the
+fortune which the extravagance of his father had greatly impaired. His
+only real public service was the composition in French of a reply to the
+French manifesto which was issued at the beginning of the war of 1778.
+He voted steadily and placidly as a Tory, and it is not probable that in
+doing so he did any violence to his opinions. Like Hume, he shrank with
+an instinctive dislike from all popular agitations, from all turbulence,
+passion, exaggeration, and enthusiasm; and a temperate and well-ordered
+despotism was evidently his ideal. He showed it in the well-known
+passage in which he extols the benevolent despotism of the Antonines as
+without exception the happiest period in the history of mankind, and in
+the unmixed horror with which he looked upon the French Revolution that
+broke up the old landmarks of Europe, For three years he held an office
+in the Board of Trade, which added considerably to his income without
+adding greatly to his labors, and he supported steadily the American
+policy of Lord North and the Coalition ministry of North and Fox; but
+the loss of his office and the retirement of North soon drove him from
+Parliament, and he shortly after took up his residence at Lausanne.
+
+But before this time a considerable part of his great work had been
+accomplished. The first quarto volume of the 'Decline and Fall' appeared
+in February 1776. As is usually the case with historical works, it
+occupied a much longer period than its successors, and was the fruit of
+about ten years of labor. It passed rapidly through three editions,
+received the enthusiastic eulogy of Hume and Robertson, and was no doubt
+greatly assisted in its circulation by the storm of controversy that
+arose about his Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters. In April 1781 two more
+volumes appeared, and the three concluding volumes were published
+together on the 8th of May, 1788, being the fifty-first birthday of the
+author.
+
+A work of such magnitude, dealing with so vast a variety of subjects,
+was certain to exhibit some flaws. The controversy at first turned
+mainly upon its religious tendency. The complete skepticism of the
+author, his aversion to the ecclesiastical type which dominated in the
+period of which he wrote, and his unalterable conviction that
+Christianity, by diverting the strength and enthusiasm of the Empire
+from civic into ascetic and ecclesiastical channels, was a main cause of
+the downfall of the Empire and of the triumph of barbarism, gave him a
+bias which it was impossible to overlook. On no other subject is his
+irony more bitter or his contempt so manifestly displayed. Few good
+critics will deny that the growth of the ascetic spirit had a large part
+in corroding and enfeebling the civic virtues of the Empire; but the
+part which it played was that of intensifying a disease that had already
+begun, and Gibbon, while exaggerating the amount of the evil, has very
+imperfectly described the great services rendered even by a monastic
+Church in laying the basis of another civilization and in mitigating the
+calamities of the barbarian invasion. The causes he has given of the
+spread of Christianity in the Fifteenth Chapter were for the most part
+true causes, but there were others of which he was wholly insensible.
+The strong moral enthusiasms that transform the character and inspire or
+accelerate all great religious changes lay wholly beyond the sphere of
+his realizations. His language about the Christian martyrs is the most
+repulsive portion of his work; and his comparison of the sufferings
+caused by pagan and Christian persecutions is greatly vitiated by the
+fact that he only takes account of the number of deaths, and lays no
+stress on the profuse employment of atrocious tortures, which was one of
+the most distinct features of the pagan persecutions. At the same time,
+though Gibbon displays in this field a manifest and a distorting bias,
+he never, like some of his French contemporaries, sinks into the mere
+partisan, awarding to one side unqualified eulogy and to the other
+unqualified contempt. Let the reader who doubts this examine and compare
+his masterly portraits of Julian and of Athanasius, and he will perceive
+how clearly the great historian could recognize weaknesses in the
+characters by which he was most attracted, and elements of true
+greatness in those by which he was most repelled. A modern writer, in
+treating of the history of religions, would have given a larger space to
+comparative religion, and to the gradual, unconscious, and spontaneous
+growth of myths in the twilight periods of the human mind. These however
+were subjects which were scarcely known in the days of Gibbon, and he
+cannot be blamed for not having discussed them.
+
+Another class of objections which has been brought against him is that
+he is weak upon the philosophical side, and deals with history mainly
+as a mere chronicle of events, and not as a chain of causes and
+consequences, a series of problems to be solved, a gradual evolution
+which it is the task of the historian to explain. Coleridge, who
+detested Gibbon and spoke of him with gross injustice, has put this
+objection in the strongest form. He accuses him of having reduced
+history to a mere collection of splendid anecdotes; of noting nothing
+but what may produce an effect; of skipping from eminence to eminence
+without ever taking his readers through the valleys between; of having
+never made a single philosophical attempt to fathom the ultimate causes
+of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, which is the very subject
+of his history. That such charges are grossly exaggerated will be
+apparent to any one who will carefully read the Second and Third
+Chapters, describing the state and tendencies of the Empire under the
+Antonines; or the chapters devoted to the rise and character of the
+barbarians, to the spread of Christianity, to the influence of
+monasticism, to the jurisprudence of the republic and of the Empire; nor
+would it be difficult to collect many acute and profound philosophical
+remarks from other portions of the history. Still, it may be admitted
+that the philosophical side is not its strongest part. Social and
+economical changes are sometimes inadequately examined and explained,
+and we often desire fuller information about the manners and life of the
+masses of the people. As far as concerns the age of the Antonines, this
+want has been amply supplied by the great work of Friedländer.
+
+History, like many other things in our generation, has fallen largely
+into the hands of specialists; and it is inevitable that men who have
+devoted their lives to a minute examination of short periods should be
+able to detect some deficiencies and errors in a writer who traversed a
+period of more than twelve hundred years. Many generations of scholars
+have arisen since Gibbon; many new sources of knowledge have become
+available, and archæology especially has thrown a flood of new light on
+some of the subjects he treated. Though his knowledge and his narrative
+are on the whole admirably sustained, there are periods which he knew
+less well and treated less fully than others. His account of the
+Crusades is generally acknowledged to be one of the most conspicuous of
+these, and within the last few years there has arisen a school of
+historians who protest against the low opinion of the Byzantine Empire
+which was held by Gibbon, and was almost universal among scholars till
+the present generation. That these writers have brought into relief
+certain merits of the Lower Empire which Gibbon had neglected, will not
+be denied; but it is perhaps too early to decide whether the reaction
+has not, like most reactions, been carried to extravagance, and whether
+in its general features the estimate of Gibbon is not nearer the truth
+than some of those which are now put forward to replace it.
+
+Much must no doubt be added to the work of Gibbon in order to bring it
+up to the level of our present knowledge; but there is no sign that any
+single work is likely to supersede it or to render it useless to the
+student; nor does its survival depend only or even mainly on its great
+literary qualities, which have made it one of the classics of the
+language. In some of these qualities Hume was the equal of Gibbon and in
+others his superior, and he brought to his history a more penetrating
+and philosophical intellect and an equally calm and unenthusiastic
+nature; but the study which Hume bestowed on his subject was so
+superficial and his statements were often so inaccurate, that his work
+is now never quoted as an authority. With Gibbon it is quite otherwise.
+His marvelous industry, his almost unrivaled accuracy of detail, his
+sincere love of truth, his rare discrimination and insight in weighing
+testimony and in judging character, have given him a secure place among
+the greatest historians of the world.
+
+His life lasted only fifty-six years; he died in London on January 15th,
+1794. With a single exception his history is his only work of real
+importance. That exception is his admirable autobiography. Gibbon left
+behind him six distinct sketches, which his friend Lord Sheffield put
+together with singular skill. It is one of the best specimens of
+self-portraiture in the language, reflecting with pellucid clearness
+both the life and character, the merits and defects, of its author. He
+was certainly neither a hero nor a saint; nor did he possess the moral
+and intellectual qualities that dominate in the great conflicts of life,
+sway the passions of men, appeal powerfully to the imagination, or
+dazzle and impress in social intercourse. He was a little slow, a little
+pompous, a little affected and pedantic. In the general type of his mind
+and character he bore much more resemblance to Hume, Adam Smith, or
+Reynolds, than to Johnson or Burke. A reserved scholar, who was rather
+proud of being a man of the world; a confirmed bachelor, much wedded to
+his comforts though caring nothing for luxury, he was eminently moderate
+in his ambitions, and there was not a trace of passion or enthusiasm in
+his nature. Such a man was not likely to inspire any strong devotion.
+But his temper was most kindly, equable, and contented; he was a steady
+friend, and he appears to have been always liked and honored in the
+cultivated and uncontentious society in which he delighted. His life was
+not a great one, but it was in all essentials blameless and happy. He
+found the work which was most congenial to him. He pursued it with
+admirable industry and with brilliant success, and he left behind him a
+book which is not likely to be forgotten while the English language
+endures.
+
+                                         [Signature: W. E. H. Lecky]
+
+
+
+ZENOBIA
+
+
+Aurelian had no sooner secured the person and provinces of Tetricus,
+than he turned his arms against Zenobia, the celebrated queen of Palmyra
+and the East. Modern Europe has produced several illustrious women who
+have sustained with glory the weight of empire; nor is our own age
+destitute of such distinguished characters. But if we except the
+doubtful achievements of Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female
+whose superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on her
+sex by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her descent from the
+Macedonian kings of Egypt, equaled in beauty her ancestor Cleopatra, and
+far surpassed that princess in chastity and valor. Zenobia was esteemed
+the most lovely as well as the most heroic of her sex. She was of a dark
+complexion (for in speaking of a lady these trifles become important).
+Her teeth were of a pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled
+with uncommon fire, tempered by the most attractive sweetness. Her voice
+was strong and harmonious. Her manly understanding was strengthened and
+adorned by study. She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but
+possessed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian
+languages. She had drawn up for her own use an epitome of Oriental
+history, and familiarly compared the beauties of Homer and Plato under
+the tuition of the sublime Longinus.
+
+This accomplished woman gave her hand to Odenathus, who, from a private
+station, raised himself to the dominion of the East. She soon became the
+friend and companion of a hero. In the intervals of war, Odenathus
+passionately delighted in the exercise of hunting; he pursued with ardor
+the wild beasts of the desert,--lions, panthers, and bears; and the
+ardor of Zenobia in that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his
+own. She had inured her constitution to fatigue, disdained the use of a
+covered carriage, generally appeared on horseback in a military habit,
+and sometimes marched several miles on foot at the head of the troops.
+The success of Odenathus was in a great measure ascribed to her
+incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their splendid victories over the
+Great King, whom they twice pursued as far as the gates of Ctesiphon,
+laid the foundations of their united fame and power. The armies which
+they commanded, and the provinces which they had saved, acknowledged
+not any other sovereigns than their invincible chiefs. The Senate and
+people of Rome revered a stranger who had avenged their captive emperor,
+and even the insensible son of Valerian accepted Odenathus for his
+legitimate colleague.
+
+After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of Asia, the
+Palmyrenian prince returned to the city of Emesa in Syria. Invincible in
+war, he was there cut off by domestic treason; and his favorite
+amusement of hunting was the cause, or at least the occasion, of his
+death. His nephew Mæonius presumed to dart his javelin before that of
+his uncle; and though admonished of his error, repeated the same
+insolence. As a monarch and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took
+away his horse, a mark of ignominy among the barbarians, and chastised
+the rash youth by a short confinement. The offense was soon forgot, but
+the punishment was remembered; and Mæonius, with a few daring
+associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst of a great
+entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not of Zenobia, a
+young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was killed with his father.
+But Mæonius obtained only the pleasure of revenge by this bloody deed.
+He had scarcely time to assume the title of Augustus, before he was
+sacrificed by Zenobia to the memory of her husband.
+
+With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she immediately filled
+the vacant throne, and governed with manly counsels Palmyra, Syria, and
+the East, above five years. By the death of Odenathus, that authority
+was at an end which the Senate had granted him only as a personal
+distinction; but his martial widow, disdaining both the Senate and
+Gallienus, obliged one of the Roman generals who was sent against her to
+retreat into Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation.
+Instead of the little passions which so frequently perplex a female
+reign, the steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most
+judicious maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she could
+calm her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she could impose
+silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was accused of avarice;
+yet on every proper occasion she appeared magnificent and liberal. The
+neighboring States of Arabia, Armenia, and Persia dreaded her enmity and
+solicited her alliance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extended
+from the Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the
+inheritance of her ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of
+Egypt. The Emperor Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content that
+while _he_ pursued the Gothic war, _she_ should assert the dignity of
+the Empire in the East. The conduct however of Zenobia was attended with
+some ambiguity, nor is it unlikely that she had conceived the design of
+erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. She blended with the
+popular manners of Roman princes the stately pomp of the courts of Asia,
+and exacted from her subjects the same adoration that was paid to the
+successors of Cyrus. She bestowed on her three sons a Latin education,
+and often showed them to the troops adorned with the imperial purple.
+For herself she reserved the diadem, with the splendid but doubtful
+title of Queen of the East.
+
+When Aurelian passed over into Asia against an adversary whose sex alone
+could render her an object of contempt, his presence restored obedience
+to the province of Bithynia, already shaken by the arms and intrigues of
+Zenobia. Advancing at the head of his legions, he accepted the
+submission of Ancyra, and was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate
+siege, by the help of a perfidious citizen. The generous though fierce
+temper of Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers: a
+superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen
+of Apollonius the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on his approach,
+till the Emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the fugitives, and
+granted a general pardon to all who from necessity rather than choice
+had been engaged in the service of the Palmyrenian Queen. The unexpected
+mildness of such a conduct reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and as
+far as the gates of Emesa the wishes of the people seconded the terror
+of his arms.
+
+Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she indolently
+permitted the Emperor of the West to approach within a hundred miles of
+her capital. The fate of the East was decided in two great battles, so
+similar in almost every circumstance that we can scarcely distinguish
+them from each other, except by observing that the first was fought near
+Antioch and the second near Emesa. In both the Queen of Palmyra animated
+the armies by her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on
+Zabdas, who had already signalized his military talents by the conquest
+of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted for the most part of
+light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed in complete steel. The
+Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian were unable to sustain the
+ponderous charge of their antagonists. They fled in real or affected
+disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians in a laborious pursuit, harassed them
+by a desultory combat, and at length discomfited this impenetrable but
+unwieldy body of cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when
+they had exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a
+closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the legions.
+Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were usually stationed on
+the Upper Danube, and whose valor had been severely tried in the
+Alemannic war. After the defeat of Emesa, Zenobia found it impossible to
+collect a third army. As far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations
+subject to her empire had joined the standard of the conqueror, who
+detached Probus, the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the
+Egyptian provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of
+Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made every
+preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared, with the
+intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and of her
+life should be the same.
+
+Amid the barren deserts of Arabia, a few cultivated spots rise like
+islands out of the sandy ocean. Even the name of Tadmor, or Palmyra, by
+its signification in the Syriac as well as in the Latin language,
+denoted the multitude of palm-trees which afforded shade and verdure to
+that temperate region. The air was pure, and the soil, watered by some
+invaluable springs, was capable of producing fruits as well as corn.
+A place possessed of such singular advantages, and situated at a
+convenient distance between the Gulf of Persia and the Mediterranean,[C]
+was soon frequented by the caravans which conveyed to the nations of
+Europe a considerable part of the rich commodities of India. Palmyra
+insensibly increased into an opulent and independent city, and
+connecting the Roman and the Parthian monarchies by the mutual benefits
+of commerce, was suffered to observe a humble neutrality, till at length
+after the victories of Trajan the little republic sunk into the bosom of
+Rome, and flourished more than one hundred and fifty years in the
+subordinate though honorable rank of a colony. It was during that
+peaceful period, if we may judge from a few remaining inscriptions, that
+the wealthy Palmyrenians constructed those temples, palaces, and
+porticos of Grecian architecture whose ruins, scattered over an extent
+of several miles, have deserved the curiosity of our travelers. The
+elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to reflect new splendor on
+their country, and Palmyra for a while stood forth the rival of Rome:
+but the competition was fatal, and ages of prosperity were sacrificed to
+a moment of glory.
+
+    [C] Five hundred and thirty-seven miles from Seleucia, two
+    hundred and three from the nearest coast of Syria, according
+    to Pliny.
+
+In his march over the sandy desert between Emesa and Palmyra, the
+Emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the Arabs; nor could he
+always defend his army, and especially his baggage, from those flying
+troops of active and daring robbers who watched the moment of surprise
+and eluded the slow pursuit of the legions. The siege of Palmyra was an
+object far more difficult and important, and the Emperor, who with
+incessant vigor pressed the attacks in person, was himself wounded with
+a dart. "The Roman people," says Aurelian, in an original letter, "speak
+with contempt of the war which I am waging against a woman. They are
+ignorant both of the character and of the power of Zenobia. It is
+impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations of stones, of arrows,
+and of every species of missile weapons. Every part of the walls is
+provided with two or three _balistæ_, and artificial fires are thrown
+from her military engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with a
+desperate courage. Yet still I trust in the protecting deities of Rome,
+who have hitherto been favorable to all my undertakings." Doubtful,
+however, of the protection of the gods and of the event of the siege,
+Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous
+capitulation: to the Queen, a splendid retreat; to the citizens, their
+ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately rejected, and the
+refusal was accompanied with insult.
+
+The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope that in a very short
+time famine would compel the Roman army to repass the desert, and by the
+reasonable expectation that the kings of the East, and particularly the
+Persian monarch, would arm in the defense of their most natural ally.
+But fortune and the perseverance of Aurelian overcame every obstacle.
+The death of Sapor, which happened about this time, distracted the
+counsels of Persia, and the inconsiderable succors that attempted to
+relieve Palmyra were easily intercepted either by the arms or the
+liberality of the Emperor. From every part of Syria a regular succession
+of convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by the return
+of Probus with his victorious troops from the conquest of Egypt. It was
+then that Zenobia resolved to fly. She mounted the fleetest of her
+dromedaries, and had already reached the banks of the Euphrates, about
+sixty miles from Palmyra, when she was overtaken by the pursuit of
+Aurelian's light horse, seized, and brought back a captive to the feet
+of the Emperor. Her capital soon afterwards surrendered, and was treated
+with unexpected lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with an immense
+treasure of gold, silver, silk, and precious stones, were all delivered
+to the conqueror, who, leaving only a garrison of six hundred archers,
+returned to Emesa and employed some time in the distribution of rewards
+and punishments at the end of so memorable a war, which restored to the
+obedience of Rome those provinces that had renounced their allegiance
+since the captivity of Valerian.
+
+When the Syrian Queen was brought into the presence of Aurelian he
+sternly asked her, How she had presumed to rise in arms against the
+emperors of Rome! The answer of Zenobia was a prudent mixture of respect
+and firmness: "Because I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an
+Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my
+sovereign." But as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is
+seldom steady or consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the
+hour of trial; she trembled at the angry clamors of the soldiers, who
+called aloud for her immediate execution, forgot the generous despair of
+Cleopatra which she had proposed as her model, and ignominiously
+purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her friends. It was to
+their counsels, which governed the weakness of her sex, that she imputed
+the guilt of her obstinate resistance; it was on their heads that she
+directed the vengeance of the cruel Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who
+was included among the numerous and perhaps innocent victims of her
+fear, will survive that of the Queen who betrayed or the tyrant who
+condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce
+unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize the
+soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint he calmly followed the
+executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing comfort on his
+afflicted friends....
+
+But, however in the treatment of his unfortunate rivals Aurelian might
+indulge his pride, he behaved towards them with a generous clemency
+which was seldom exercised by the ancient conquerors. Princes who
+without success had defended their throne or freedom, were frequently
+strangled in prison as soon as the triumphal pomp ascended the Capitol.
+These usurpers, whom their defeat had convicted of the crime of treason,
+were permitted to spend their lives in affluence and honorable repose.
+The Emperor presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur, or Tivoli,
+about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen insensibly sunk
+into a Roman matron, her daughters married into noble families, and her
+race was not yet extinct in the fifth century.
+
+
+
+FOUNDATION OF CONSTANTINOPLE
+
+
+We are at present qualified to view the advantageous position of
+Constantinople, which appears to have been formed by nature for the
+centre and capital of a great monarchy. Situated in the forty-first
+degree of latitude, the imperial city commanded from her seven hills the
+opposite shores of Europe and Asia; the climate was healthy and
+temperate, the soil fertile, the harbor secure and capacious; and the
+approach on the side of the continent was of small extent and easy
+defense. The Bosphorus and the Hellespont may be considered as the two
+gates of Constantinople; and the prince who possessed those important
+passages could always shut them against a naval enemy and open them to
+the fleets of commerce. The preservation of the eastern provinces may in
+some degree be ascribed to the policy of Constantine, as the barbarians
+of the Euxine, who in the preceding age had poured their armaments into
+the heart of the Mediterranean, soon desisted from the exercise of
+piracy, and despaired of forcing this insurmountable barrier. When the
+gates of the Hellespont and Bosphorus were shut, the capital still
+enjoyed within their spacious inclosure every production which could
+supply the wants or gratify the luxury of its numerous inhabitants. The
+sea-coasts of Thrace and Bithynia, which languish under the weight of
+Turkish oppression, still exhibit a rich prospect of vineyards, of
+gardens, and of plentiful harvests; and the Propontis has ever been
+renowned for an inexhaustible store of the most exquisite fish, that are
+taken in their stated seasons without skill and almost without labor.
+But when the passages of the straits were thrown open for trade, they
+alternately admitted the natural and artificial riches of the North and
+South, of the Euxine and of the Mediterranean. Whatever rude commodities
+were collected in the forests of Germany and Scythia, as far as the
+sources of the Tanais and the Borysthenes; whatsoever was manufactured
+by the skill of Europe or Asia; the corn of Egypt, and the gems and
+spices of the farthest India, were brought by the varying winds into the
+port of Constantinople, which for many ages attracted the commerce of
+the ancient world.
+
+The prospect of beauty, of safety, and of wealth, united in a single
+spot, was sufficient to justify the choice of Constantine. But as some
+decent mixture of prodigy and fable has in every age been supposed to
+reflect a becoming majesty on the origin of great cities, the Emperor
+was desirous of ascribing his resolution, not so much to the uncertain
+counsels of human policy as to the infallible and eternal decrees of
+Divine wisdom. In one of his laws he has been careful to instruct
+posterity that in obedience to the commands of God he laid the
+everlasting foundations of Constantinople: and though he has not
+condescended to relate in what manner the celestial inspiration was
+communicated to his mind, the defect of his modest silence has been
+liberally supplied by the ingenuity of succeeding writers, who describe
+the nocturnal vision which appeared to the fancy of Constantine as he
+slept within the walls of Byzantium. The tutelar genius of the city, a
+venerable matron sinking under the weight of years and infirmities, was
+suddenly transformed into a blooming maid, whom his own hands adorned
+with all the symbols of imperial greatness. The monarch awoke,
+interpreted the auspicious omen, and obeyed without hesitation the will
+of Heaven. The day which gave birth to a city or colony was celebrated
+by the Romans with such ceremonies as had been ordained by a generous
+superstition; and though Constantine might omit some rites which savored
+too strongly of their pagan origin, yet he was anxious to leave a deep
+impression of hope and respect on the minds of the spectators. On foot,
+with a lance in his hand, the Emperor himself led the solemn procession,
+and directed the line which was traced as the boundary of the destined
+capital; till the growing circumference was observed with astonishment
+by the assistants, who at length ventured to observe that he had already
+exceeded the most ample measure of a great city. "I shall still
+advance," replied Constantine, "till HE, the invisible guide who marches
+before me, thinks proper to stop." Without presuming to investigate the
+nature or motives of this extraordinary conductor, we shall content
+ourselves with the more humble task of describing the extent and limits
+of Constantinople.
+
+In the actual state of the city, the palace and gardens of the Seraglio
+occupy the eastern promontory, the first of the seven hills, and cover
+about one hundred and fifty acres of our own measure. The seat of
+Turkish jealousy and despotism is erected on the foundations of a
+Grecian republic; but it may be supposed that the Byzantines were
+tempted by the conveniency of the harbor to extend their habitations on
+that side beyond the modern limits of the Seraglio. The new walls of
+Constantine stretched from the port to the Propontis across the enlarged
+breadth of the triangle, at a distance of fifteen stadia from the
+ancient fortification; and with the city of Byzantium they inclosed five
+of the seven hills which, to the eyes of those who approach
+Constantinople, appear to rise above each other in beautiful order.
+About a century after the death of the founder, the new buildings,
+extending on one side up the harbor and on the other along the
+Propontis, already covered the narrow ridge of the sixth and the broad
+summit of the seventh hill. The necessity of protecting those suburbs
+from the incessant inroads of the barbarians engaged the younger
+Theodosius to surround his capital with an adequate and permanent
+inclosure of walls. From the eastern promontory to the Golden Gate, the
+extreme length of Constantinople was about three Roman miles; the
+circumference measured between ten and eleven, and the surface might be
+computed as equal to about two thousand English acres. It is impossible
+to justify the vain and credulous exaggerations of modern travelers, who
+have sometimes stretched the limits of Constantinople over the adjacent
+villages of the European, and even of the Asiatic coast. But the suburbs
+of Pera and Galata, though situate beyond the harbor, may deserve to be
+considered as a part of the city; and this addition may perhaps
+authorize the measure of a Byzantine historian, who assigns sixteen
+Greek (about fourteen Roman) miles for the circumference of his native
+city. Such an extent may not seem unworthy of an imperial residence. Yet
+Constantinople must yield to Babylon and Thebes, to ancient Rome, to
+London, and even to Paris.
+
+The master of the Roman world, who aspired to erect an eternal monument
+of the glories of his reign, could employ in the prosecution of that
+great work the wealth, the labor, and all that yet remained of the
+genius of obedient millions. Some estimate may be formed of the expense
+bestowed with imperial liberality on the foundation of Constantinople,
+by the allowance of about two millions five hundred thousand pounds for
+the construction of the walls, the porticos, and the aqueducts. The
+forests that overshadowed the shores of the Euxine, and the celebrated
+quarries of white marble in the little island of Proconnesus, supplied
+an inexhaustible stock of materials, ready to be conveyed, by the
+convenience of a short water carriage, to the harbor of Byzantium. A
+multitude of laborers and artificers urged the conclusion of the work
+with incessant toil; but the impatience of Constantine soon discovered
+that, in the decline of the arts, the skill as well as numbers of his
+architects bore a very unequal proportion to the greatness of his
+designs. The magistrates of the most distant provinces were therefore
+directed to institute schools, to appoint professors, and by the hopes
+of rewards and privileges to engage in the study and practice of
+architecture a sufficient number of ingenious youths who had received a
+liberal education. The buildings of the new city were executed by such
+artificers as the reign of Constantine could afford; but they were
+decorated by the hands of the most celebrated masters of the age of
+Pericles and Alexander. To revive the genius of Phidias and Lysippus
+surpassed indeed the power of a Roman emperor; but the immortal
+productions which they had bequeathed to posterity were exposed without
+defense to the rapacious vanity of a despot. By his commands the cities
+of Greece and Asia were despoiled of their most valuable ornaments. The
+trophies of memorable wars, the objects of religious veneration, the
+most finished statues of the gods and heroes, of the sages and poets of
+ancient times, contributed to the splendid triumph of Constantinople,
+and gave occasion to the remark of the historian Cedrenus, who observes
+with some enthusiasm that nothing seemed wanting except the souls of the
+illustrious men whom these admirable monuments were intended to
+represent. But it is not in the city of Constantine, nor in the
+declining period of an empire, when the human mind was depressed by
+civil and religious slavery, that we should seek for the souls of Homer
+and of Demosthenes.
+
+During the siege of Byzantium, the conqueror had pitched his tent on the
+commanding eminence of the second hill. To perpetuate the memory of his
+success, he chose the same advantageous position for the principal
+Forum, which appears to have been of a circular or rather elliptical
+form. The two opposite entrances formed triumphal arches; the porticos
+which inclosed it on every side were filled with statues; and the
+centre of the Forum was occupied by a lofty column, of which a mutilated
+fragment is now degraded by the appellation of the _burnt pillar_. This
+column was erected on a pedestal of white marble twenty feet high, and
+was composed of ten pieces of porphyry, each of which measured about ten
+feet in height and about thirty-three in circumference. On the summit of
+the pillar, above one hundred and twenty feet from the ground, stood the
+colossal statue of Apollo. It was of bronze, had been transported either
+from Athens or from a town of Phrygia, and was supposed to be the work
+of Phidias. The artist had represented the god of day, or as it was
+afterwards interpreted, the Emperor Constantine himself with a sceptre
+in his right hand, the globe of the world in his left, and a crown of
+rays glittering on his head. The Circus, or Hippodrome, was a stately
+building about four hundred paces in length and one hundred in breadth.
+The space between the two _metæ_ or goals was filled with statues and
+obelisks; and we may still remark a very singular fragment of
+antiquity--the bodies of three serpents twisted into one pillar of
+brass. Their triple heads had once supported the golden tripod which,
+after the defeat of Xerxes, was consecrated in the temple of Delphi by
+the victorious Greeks. The beauty of the Hippodrome has been long since
+defaced by the rude hands of the Turkish conquerors; but under the
+similar appellation of Atmeidan, it still serves as a place of exercise
+for their horses. From the throne whence the Emperor viewed the
+Circensian games, a winding staircase descended to the palace: a
+magnificent edifice which scarcely yielded to the residence of Rome
+itself, and which, together with the dependent courts, gardens, and
+porticos, covered a considerable extent of ground upon the banks of
+the Propontis between the Hippodrome and the church of St. Sophia.
+We might likewise celebrate the baths, which still retained the name
+of Zeuxippus, after they had been enriched by the munificence of
+Constantine with lofty columns, various marbles, and above threescore
+statues of bronze. But we should deviate from the design of this history
+if we attempted minutely to describe the different buildings or quarters
+of the city. It may be sufficient to observe that whatever could adorn
+the dignity of a great capital, or contribute to the benefit or pleasure
+of its numerous inhabitants, was contained within the walls of
+Constantinople. A particular description, composed about a century after
+its foundation, enumerates a capitol or school of learning, a circus,
+two theatres, eight public and one hundred and fifty-three private
+baths, fifty-two porticos, five granaries, eight aqueducts or reservoirs
+of water, four spacious halls for the meetings of the senate or courts
+of justice, fourteen churches, fourteen palaces, and four thousand three
+hundred and eighty-eight houses which for their size or beauty deserved
+to be distinguished from the multitude of plebeian habitations.
+
+The populousness of his favored city was the next and most serious
+object of the attention of its founder. In the dark ages which succeeded
+the translation of the empire, the remote and the immediate consequences
+of that memorable event were strangely confounded by the vanity of the
+Greeks and the credulity of the Latins. It was asserted and believed
+that all the noble families of Rome, the Senate, and the equestrian
+order, with their innumerable attendants, had followed their Emperor to
+the banks of the Propontis; that a spurious race of strangers and
+plebeians was left to possess the solitude of the ancient capital; and
+that the lands of Italy, long since converted into gardens, were at once
+deprived of cultivation and inhabitants. In the course of this history
+such exaggerations will be reduced to their just value: yet, since the
+growth of Constantinople cannot be ascribed to the general increase of
+mankind and of industry, it must be admitted that this artificial colony
+was raised at the expense of the ancient cities of the empire. Many
+opulent senators of Rome and of the eastern provinces were probably
+invited by Constantine to adopt for their country the fortunate spot
+which he had chosen for his own residence. The invitations of a master
+are scarcely to be distinguished from commands; and the liberality of
+the Emperor obtained a ready and cheerful obedience. He bestowed on his
+favorites the palaces which he had built in the several quarters of the
+city, assigned them lands and pensions for the support of their dignity,
+and alienated the demesnes of Pontus and Asia to grant hereditary
+estates by the easy tenure of maintaining a house in the capital. But
+these encouragements and obligations soon became superfluous, and were
+gradually abolished. Wherever the seat of government is fixed, a
+considerable part of the public revenue will be expended by the prince
+himself, by his ministers, by the officers of justice, and by the
+domestics of the palace. The most wealthy of the provincials will be
+attracted by the powerful motives of interest and duty, of amusement
+and curiosity. A third and more numerous class of inhabitants will
+insensibly be formed, of servants, of artificers, and of merchants, who
+derive their subsistence from their own labor and from the wants or
+luxury of the superior ranks. In less than a century Constantinople
+disputed with Rome itself the pre-eminence of riches and numbers. New
+piles of buildings, crowded together with too little regard to health or
+convenience, scarcely allowed the intervals of narrow streets for the
+perpetual throng of men, of horses, and of carriages. The allotted space
+of ground was insufficient to contain the increasing people; and the
+additional foundations, which on either side were advanced into the sea,
+might alone have composed a very considerable city.
+
+The frequent and regular distributions of wine and oil, of corn or
+bread, of money or provisions, had almost exempted the poorer citizens
+of Rome from the necessity of labor. The magnificence of the first
+Cæsars was in some measure imitated by the founder of Constantinople;
+but his liberality, however it might excite the applause of the people,
+has incurred the censure of posterity. A nation of legislators and
+conquerors might assert their claim to the harvests of Africa, which had
+been purchased with their blood; and it was artfully contrived by
+Augustus that in the enjoyment of plenty the Romans should lose the
+memory of freedom. But the prodigality of Constantine could not be
+excused by any consideration either of public or private interest; and
+the annual tribute of corn imposed upon Egypt for the benefit of his new
+capital was applied to feed a lazy and insolent populace at the expense
+of the husbandmen of an industrious province. Some other regulations of
+this Emperor are less liable to blame, but they are less deserving of
+notice. He divided Constantinople into fourteen regions or quarters,
+dignified the public council with the appellation of senate,
+communicated to the citizens the privileges of Italy, and bestowed on
+the rising city the title of colony, the first and most favored daughter
+of ancient Rome. The venerable parent still maintained the legal and
+acknowledged supremacy which was due to her age, her dignity, and to the
+remembrance of her former greatness.
+
+As Constantine urged the progress of the work with the impatience of a
+lover, the walls, the porticos, and the principal edifices were
+completed in a few years, or according to another account, in a few
+months; but this extraordinary diligence should excite the less
+admiration, since many of the buildings were finished in so hasty and
+imperfect a manner that under the succeeding reign they were preserved
+with difficulty from impending ruin. But while they displayed the vigor
+and freshness of youth, the founder prepared to celebrate the dedication
+of his city. The games and largesses which crowned the pomp of this
+memorable festival may easily be supposed; but there is one circumstance
+of a more singular and permanent nature which ought not entirely to be
+overlooked. As often as the birthday of the city returned, the statue of
+Constantine, framed by his order, of gilt wood, and bearing in its right
+hand a small image of the genius of the place, was erected on a
+triumphal car. The guards, carrying white tapers and clothed in their
+richest apparel, accompanied the solemn procession as it moved through
+the Hippodrome. When it was opposite to the throne of the reigning
+emperor, he rose from his seat, and with grateful reverence adored the
+memory of his predecessor. At the festival of the dedication an edict,
+engraved on a column of marble, bestowed the title of SECOND or NEW ROME
+on the city of Constantine. But the name of Constantinople has prevailed
+over that honorable epithet, and after the revolution of fourteen
+centuries still perpetuates the fame of its author.
+
+
+
+CHARACTER OF CONSTANTINE
+
+
+The character of the prince who removed the seat of empire, and
+introduced such important changes into the civil and religious
+constitution of his country, has fixed the attention and divided the
+opinions of mankind. By the grateful zeal of the Christians, the
+deliverer of the Church has been decorated with every attribute of a
+hero and even of a saint, while the discontent of the vanquished party
+has compared Constantine to the most abhorred of those tyrants who by
+their vice and weakness dishonored the imperial purple. The same
+passions have in some degree been perpetuated to succeeding generations,
+and the character of Constantine is considered, even in the present age,
+as an object either of satire or of panegyric. By the impartial union of
+those defects which are confessed by his warmest admirers, and of those
+virtues which are acknowledged by his most implacable enemies, we might
+hope to delineate a just portrait of that extraordinary man which the
+truth and candor of history should adopt without a blush. But it would
+soon appear, that the vain attempt to blend such discordant colors and
+to reconcile such inconsistent qualities must produce a figure monstrous
+rather than human, unless it is viewed in its proper and distinct
+lights, by a careful separation of the different periods of the reign of
+Constantine.
+
+The person as well as the mind of Constantine had been enriched by
+nature with her choicest endowments. His stature was lofty, his
+countenance majestic, his deportment graceful, his strength and activity
+were displayed in every manly exercise, and from his earliest youth to a
+very advanced season of life he preserved the vigor of his constitution
+by a strict adherence to the domestic virtues of chastity and
+temperance. He delighted in the social intercourse of familiar
+conversation; and though he might sometimes indulge his disposition to
+raillery with less reserve than was required by the severe dignity of
+his station, the courtesy and liberality of his manners gained the
+hearts of all who approached him. The sincerity of his friendship has
+been suspected; yet he showed on some occasions that he was not
+incapable of a warm and lasting attachment. The disadvantage of an
+illiterate education had not prevented him from forming a just estimate
+of the value of learning; and the arts and sciences derived some
+encouragement from the munificent protection of Constantine. In the
+dispatch of business, his diligence was indefatigable; and the active
+powers of his mind were almost continually exercised in reading,
+writing, or meditating, in giving audience to ambassadors, and in
+examining the complaints of his subjects. Even those who censured the
+propriety of his measures were compelled to acknowledge that he
+possessed magnanimity to conceive and patience to execute the most
+arduous designs, without being checked either by the prejudices of
+education or by the clamors of the multitude. In the field he infused
+his own intrepid spirit into the troops, whom he conducted with the
+talents of a consummate general; and to his abilities, rather than to
+his fortune, we may ascribe the signal victories which he obtained over
+the foreign and domestic foes of the republic. He loved glory as the
+reward, perhaps as the motive, of his labors. The boundless ambition
+which, from the moment of his accepting the purple at York, appears as
+the ruling passion of his soul, may be justified by the dangers of his
+own situation, by the character of his rivals, by the consciousness of
+superior merit, and by the prospect that his success would enable him to
+restore peace and order to the distracted empire. In his civil wars
+against Maxentius and Licinius he had engaged on his side the
+inclinations of the people, who compared the undissembled vices of those
+tyrants with the spirit of wisdom and justice which seemed to direct the
+general tenor of the administration of Constantine.
+
+Had Constantine fallen on the banks of the Tiber, or even in the plains
+of Hadrianople, such is the character which, with a few exceptions, he
+might have transmitted to posterity. But the conclusion of his reign
+(according to the moderate and indeed tender sentence of a writer of the
+same age) degraded him from the rank which he had acquired among the
+most deserving of the Roman princes. In the life of Augustus we behold
+the tyrant of the republic converted, almost by imperceptible degrees,
+into the father of his country and of human kind. In that of Constantine
+we may contemplate a hero who had so long inspired his subjects with
+love and his enemies with terror, degenerating into a cruel and
+dissolute monarch, corrupted by his fortune or raised by conquest above
+the necessity of dissimulation. The general peace which he maintained
+during the last fourteen years of his reign was a period of apparent
+splendor rather than of real prosperity; and the old age of Constantine
+was disgraced by the opposite yet reconcilable vices of rapaciousness
+and prodigality. The accumulated treasures found in the palaces of
+Maxentius and Licinius were lavishly consumed; the various innovations
+introduced by the conqueror were attended with an increasing expense;
+the cost of his buildings, his court, and his festivals required an
+immediate and plentiful supply; and the oppression of the people was the
+only fund which could support the magnificence of the sovereign. His
+unworthy favorites, enriched by the boundless liberality of their
+master, usurped with impunity the privilege of rapine and corruption. A
+secret but universal decay was felt in every part of the public
+administration; and the Emperor himself, though he still retained the
+obedience, gradually lost the esteem of his subjects. The dress and
+manners which towards the decline of life he chose to affect, served
+only to degrade him in the eyes of mankind. The Asiatic pomp which had
+been adopted by the pride of Diocletian assumed an air of softness and
+effeminacy in the person of Constantine. He is represented with false
+hair of various colors, laboriously arranged by the skillful artists of
+the times; a diadem of a new and more expensive fashion; a profusion of
+gems and pearls, of collars and bracelets, and a variegated flowing robe
+of silk, most curiously embroidered with flowers of gold. In such
+apparel, scarcely to be excused by the youth and folly of Elagabulus, we
+are at a loss to discover the wisdom of an aged monarch and the
+simplicity of a Roman veteran. A mind thus relaxed by prosperity and
+indulgence was incapable of rising to that magnanimity which disdains
+suspicion and dares to forgive. The deaths of Maximian and Licinius may
+perhaps be justified by the maxims of policy as they are taught in the
+schools of tyrants; but an impartial narrative of the executions, or
+rather murders, which sullied the declining age of Constantine, will
+suggest to our most candid thoughts the idea of a prince who could
+sacrifice without reluctance the laws of justice and the feelings of
+nature, to the dictates either of his passions or of his interest.
+
+The same fortune which so invariably followed the standard of
+Constantine seemed to secure the hopes and comforts of his domestic
+life. Those among his predecessors who had enjoyed the longest and most
+prosperous reigns, Augustus, Trajan, and Diocletian, had been
+disappointed of posterity; and the frequent revolutions had never
+allowed sufficient time for any imperial family to grow up and multiply
+under the shade of the purple. But the royalty of the Flavian line,
+which had been first ennobled by the Gothic Claudius, descended through
+several generations; and Constantine himself derived from his royal
+father the hereditary honors which he transmitted to his children. The
+Emperor had been twice married. Minervina, the obscure but lawful object
+of his youthful attachment, had left him only one son, who was called
+Crispus. By Fausta, the daughter of Maximian, he had three daughters,
+and three sons known by the kindred names of Constantine, Constantius,
+and Constans. The unambitious brothers of the great Constantine, Julius
+Constantius, Dalmatius, and Hannibalianus, were permitted to enjoy the
+most honorable rank and the most affluent fortune that could be
+consistent with a private station. The youngest of the three lived
+without a name and died without posterity. His two elder brothers
+obtained in marriage the daughters of wealthy senators, and propagated
+new branches of the imperial race. Gallus and Julian afterwards became
+the most illustrious of the children of Julius Constantius the
+_Patrician_. The two sons of Dalmatius, who had been decorated with the
+vain title of _censor_, were named Dalmatius and Hannibalianus. The two
+sisters of the great Constantine, Anastasia and Eutropia, were bestowed
+on Optatus and Nepotianus, two senators of noble birth and of consular
+dignity. His third sister, Constantia, was distinguished by her
+pre-eminence of greatness and of misery. She remained the widow of the
+vanquished Licinius; and it was by her entreaties that an innocent boy,
+the offspring of their marriage, preserved for some time his life, the
+title of Caesar, and a precarious hope of the succession. Besides the
+females and the allies of the Flavian house, ten or twelve males to whom
+the language of modern courts would apply the title of princes of the
+blood, seemed, according to the order of their birth, to be destined
+either to inherit or to support the throne of Constantine. But in less
+than thirty years this numerous and increasing family was reduced to the
+persons of Constantius and Julian, who alone had survived a series of
+crimes and calamities such as the tragic poets have deplored in the
+devoted lines of Pelops and of Cadmus.
+
+
+
+DEATH OF JULIAN
+
+
+While Julian struggled with the almost insuperable difficulties of his
+situation, the silent hours of the night were still devoted to study and
+contemplation. Whenever he closed his eyes in short and interrupted
+slumbers, his mind was agitated with painful anxiety; nor can it be
+thought surprising that the Genius of the Empire should once more appear
+before him, covering with a funeral veil his head and his horn of
+abundance, and slowly retiring from the imperial tent. The monarch
+started from his couch, and stepping forth to refresh his wearied
+spirits with the coolness of the midnight air, he beheld a fiery meteor
+which shot athwart the sky and suddenly vanished. Julian was convinced
+that he had seen the menacing countenance of the god of war; the council
+which he summoned of Tuscan Haruspices unanimously pronounced that he
+should abstain from action; but on this occasion necessity and reason
+were more prevalent than superstition, and the trumpets sounded at the
+break of day. The army marched through a hilly country, and the hills
+had been secretly occupied by the Persians. Julian led the van with the
+skill and attention of a consummate general; he was alarmed by the
+intelligence that his rear was suddenly attacked. The heat of the
+weather had tempted him to lay aside his cuirass; but he snatched a
+shield from one of his attendants and hastened with a sufficient
+reinforcement to the relief of the rear guard. A similar danger recalled
+the intrepid prince to the defense of the front; and as he galloped
+between the columns, the centre of the left was attacked and almost
+overpowered by a furious charge of the Persian cavalry and elephants.
+This huge body was soon defeated by the well-timed evolution of the
+light infantry, who aimed their weapons, with dexterity and effect,
+against the backs of the horsemen and the legs of the elephants. The
+Barbarians fled; and Julian, who was foremost in every danger, animated
+the pursuit with his voice and gestures. His trembling guards, scattered
+and oppressed by the disorderly throng of friends and enemies, reminded
+their fearless sovereign that he was without armor, and conjured him to
+decline the fall of the impending ruin. As they exclaimed, a cloud of
+darts and arrows was discharged from the flying squadrons; and a
+javelin, after razing the skin of his arm, transpierced the ribs and
+fixed in the inferior part of the liver. Julian attempted to draw the
+deadly weapon from his side, but his fingers were cut by the sharpness
+of the steel, and he fell senseless from his horse. His guards flew to
+his relief, and the wounded Emperor was gently raised from the ground
+and conveyed out of the tumult of the battle into an adjacent tent. The
+report of the melancholy event passed from rank to rank; but the grief
+of the Romans inspired them with invincible valor and the desire of
+revenge. The bloody and obstinate conflict was maintained by the two
+armies till they were separated by the total darkness of the night. The
+Persians derived some honor from the advantage which they obtained
+against the left wing, where Anatolius, master of the offices, was
+slain, and the præfect Sallust very narrowly escaped. But the event of
+the day was adverse to the Barbarians. They abandoned the field, their
+two generals Meranes and Nohordates, fifty nobles or satraps, and a
+multitude of their bravest soldiers; and the success of the Romans, if
+Julian had survived, might have been improved into a decisive and useful
+victory.
+
+The first words that Julian uttered after his recovery from the fainting
+fit into which he had been thrown by loss of blood, were expressive of
+his martial spirit. He called for his horse and arms, and was impatient
+to rush into the battle. His remaining strength was exhausted by the
+painful effort, and the surgeons who examined his wound discovered the
+symptoms of approaching death. He employed the awful moments with the
+firm temper of a hero and a sage; the philosophers who had accompanied
+him in this fatal expedition compared the tent of Julian with the prison
+of Socrates; and the spectators whom duty or friendship or curiosity had
+assembled round his couch listened with respectful grief to the funeral
+oration of their dying emperor:--"Friends and fellow soldiers, the
+seasonable period of my departure is now arrived, and I discharge, with
+the cheerfulness of a ready debtor, the demands of nature. I have
+learned from philosophy how much the soul is more excellent than the
+body; and that the separation of the nobler substance should be the
+subject of joy rather than of affliction. I have learned from religion
+that an earthly death has often been the reward of piety; and I accept,
+as a favor of the gods, the mortal stroke that secures me from the
+danger of disgracing a character which has hitherto been supported by
+virtue and fortitude. I die without remorse, as I have lived without
+guilt. I am pleased to reflect on the innocence of my private life; and
+I can affirm with confidence that the supreme authority, that emanation
+of the Divine power, has been preserved in my hands pure and immaculate.
+Detesting the corrupt and destructive maxims of despotism, I have
+considered the happiness of the people as the end of government.
+Submitting my actions to the laws of prudence, of justice, and of
+moderation, I have trusted the event to the care of Providence. Peace
+was the object of my counsels as long as peace was consistent with the
+public welfare; but when the imperious voice of my country summoned me
+to arms, I exposed my person to the dangers of war with the clear
+foreknowledge (which I had acquired from the art of divination) that I
+was destined to fall by the sword. I now offer my tribute of gratitude
+to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered me to perish by the cruelty
+of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of conspiracy, or by the slow tortures
+of lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst of an honorable
+career, a splendid and glorious departure from this world; and I hold it
+equally absurd, equally base, to solicit or to decline the stroke of
+fate. Thus much I have attempted to say; but my strength fails me, and I
+feel the approach of death. I shall cautiously refrain from any word
+that may tend to influence your suffrages in the election of an emperor.
+My choice might be imprudent or injudicious; and if it should not be
+ratified by the consent of the army, it might be fatal to the person
+whom I should recommend. I shall only, as a good citizen, express my
+hopes that the Romans may be blessed with the government of a virtuous
+sovereign." After this discourse, which Julian pronounced in a firm and
+gentle tone of voice, he distributed by a military testament the remains
+of his private fortune; and making some inquiry why Anatolius was not
+present, he understood from the answer of Sallust that Anatolius was
+killed, and bewailed with amiable inconsistency the loss of his friend.
+At the same time he reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators, and
+conjured them not to disgrace by unmanly tears the fate of a prince who
+in a few moments would be united with heaven and with the stars. The
+spectators were silent; and Julian entered into a metaphysical argument
+with the philosophers Priscus and Maximus on the nature of the soul. The
+efforts which he made, of mind as well as body, most probably hastened
+his death. His wound began to bleed with fresh violence; his respiration
+was embarrassed by the swelling of the veins; he called for a draught of
+cold water, and as soon as he had drunk it expired without pain, about
+the hour of midnight. Such was the end of that extraordinary man, in the
+thirty-second year of his age, after a reign of one year and about eight
+months from the death of Constantius. In his last moments he displayed,
+perhaps with some ostentation, the love of virtue and of fame which had
+been the ruling passions of his life.
+
+
+
+THE FALL OF ROME
+
+
+At the hour of midnight the Salarian gate was silently opened, and the
+inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound of the Gothic trumpet.
+Eleven hundred and sixty-three years after the foundation of Rome, the
+imperial city which had subdued and civilized so considerable a part of
+mankind was delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Germany
+and Scythia.
+
+The proclamation of Alaric, when he forced his entrance into a
+vanquished city, discovered however some regard for the laws of
+humanity and religion. He encouraged his troops boldly to seize the
+rewards of valor, and to enrich themselves with the spoils of a wealthy
+and effeminate people; but he exhorted them at the same time to spare
+the lives of the unresisting citizens, and to respect the churches of
+the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul as holy and inviolable sanctuaries.
+Amidst the horrors of a nocturnal tumult, several of the Christian Goths
+displayed the fervor of a recent conversion; and some instances of their
+uncommon piety and moderation are related, and perhaps adorned, by the
+zeal of ecclesiastical writers. While the Barbarians roamed through the
+city in quest of prey, the humble dwelling of an aged virgin who had
+devoted her life to the service of the altar was forced open by one of
+the powerful Goths. He immediately demanded, though in civil language,
+all the gold and silver in her possession; and was astonished at the
+readiness with which she conducted him to a splendid hoard of massy
+plate of the richest materials and the most curious workmanship. The
+Barbarian viewed with wonder and delight this valuable acquisition, till
+he was interrupted by a serious admonition addressed to him in the
+following words: "These," said she, "are the consecrated vessels
+belonging to St. Peter; if you presume to touch them, the sacrilegious
+deed will remain on your conscience. For my part, I dare not keep what I
+am unable to defend." The Gothic captain, struck with reverential awe,
+dispatched a messenger to inform the King of the treasure which he had
+discovered, and received a peremptory order from Alaric that all the
+consecrated plate and ornaments should be transported, without damage or
+delay, to the church of the Apostle. From the extremity, perhaps, of the
+Quirinal hill, to the distant quarter of the Vatican, a numerous
+detachment of Goths, marching in order of battle through the principal
+streets, protected with glittering arms the long train of their devout
+companions, who bore aloft on their heads the sacred vessels of gold and
+silver; and the martial shouts of the Barbarians were mingled with the
+sound of religious psalmody. From all the adjacent houses a crowd of
+Christians hastened to join this edifying procession; and a multitude of
+fugitives, without distinction of age, or rank, or even of sect, had the
+good fortune to escape to the secure and hospitable sanctuary of the
+Vatican. The learned work 'Concerning the City of God' was professedly
+composed by St. Augustine to justify the ways of Providence in the
+destruction of the Roman greatness. He celebrates with peculiar
+satisfaction this memorable triumph of Christ, and insults his
+adversaries by challenging them to produce some similar example of a
+town taken by storm, in which the fabulous gods of antiquity had been
+able to protect either themselves or their deluded votaries.
+
+In the sack of Rome, some rare and extraordinary examples of Barbarian
+virtue have been deservedly applauded. But the holy precincts of the
+Vatican and the Apostolic churches could receive a very small proportion
+of the Roman people; many thousand warriors, more especially of the Huns
+who served under the standard of Alaric, were strangers to the name, or
+at least to the faith, of Christ; and we may suspect without any breach
+of charity or candor that in the hour of savage license, when every
+passion was inflamed and every restraint was removed, the precepts of
+the gospel seldom influenced the behavior of the Gothic Christians. The
+writers the best disposed to exaggerate their clemency have freely
+confessed that a cruel slaughter was made of the Romans, and that the
+streets of the city were filled with dead bodies, which remained without
+burial during the general consternation. The despair of the citizens was
+sometimes converted into fury; and whenever the Barbarians were provoked
+by opposition, they extended the promiscuous massacre to the feeble, the
+innocent, and the helpless. The private revenge of forty thousand slaves
+was exercised without pity or remorse; and the ignominious lashes which
+they had formerly received were washed away in the blood of the guilty
+or obnoxious families. The matrons and virgins of Rome were exposed to
+injuries more dreadful, in the apprehension of chastity, than death
+itself....
+
+The want of youth, or beauty, or chastity protected the greatest part of
+the Roman women from the danger of a rape. But avarice is an insatiate
+and universal passion, since the enjoyment of almost every object that
+can afford pleasure to the different tastes and tempers of mankind may
+be procured by the possession of wealth. In the pillage of Rome, a just
+preference was given to gold and jewels, which contain the greatest
+value in the smallest compass and weight; but after these portable
+riches had been removed by the more diligent robbers, the palaces of
+Rome were rudely stripped of their splendid and costly furniture. The
+sideboards of massy plate, and the variegated wardrobes of silk and
+purple, were irregularly piled in the wagons that always followed the
+march of a Gothic army. The most exquisite works of art were roughly
+handled or wantonly destroyed; many a statue was melted for the sake of
+the precious materials; and many a vase, in the division of the spoil,
+was shivered into fragments by the stroke of a battle-axe. The
+acquisition of riches served only to stimulate the avarice of the
+rapacious Barbarians, who proceeded by threats, by blows, and by
+tortures, to force from their prisoners the confession of hidden
+treasure. Visible splendor and expense were alleged as the proof of a
+plentiful fortune; the appearance of poverty was imputed to a
+parsimonious disposition; and the obstinacy of some misers, who endured
+the most cruel torments before they would discover the secret object of
+their affection, was fatal to many unhappy wretches, who expired under
+the lash for refusing to reveal their imaginary treasures. The edifices
+of Rome, though the damage has been much exaggerated, received some
+injury from the violence of the Goths. At their entrance through the
+Salarian gate, they fired the adjacent houses to guide their march and
+to distract the attention of the citizens; the flames, which encountered
+no obstacle in the disorder of the night, consumed many private and
+public buildings; and the ruins of the palace of Sallust remained, in
+the age of Justinian, a stately monument of the Gothic conflagration.
+Yet a contemporary historian has observed that fire could scarcely
+consume the enormous beams of solid brass, and that the strength of man
+was insufficient to subvert the foundations of ancient structures. Some
+truth may possibly be concealed in his devout assertion that the wrath
+of Heaven supplied the imperfections of hostile rage, and that the proud
+Forum of Rome, decorated with the statues of so many gods and heroes,
+was leveled in the dust by the stroke of lightning....
+
+It was not easy to compute the multitudes who, from an honorable station
+and a prosperous future, were suddenly reduced to the miserable
+condition of captives and exiles.... The nations who invaded the Roman
+empire had driven before them into Italy whole troops of hungry and
+affrighted provincials, less apprehensive of servitude than of famine.
+The calamities of Rome and Italy dispersed the inhabitants to the most
+lonely, the most secure, the most distant places of refuge.... The
+Italian fugitives were dispersed through the provinces, along the coast
+of Egypt and Asia, as far as Constantinople and Jerusalem; and the
+village of Bethlem, the solitary residence of St. Jerom and his female
+converts, was crowded with illustrious beggars of either sex and every
+age, who excited the public compassion by the remembrance of their past
+fortune. This awful catastrophe of Rome filled the astonished empire
+with grief and terror. So interesting a contrast of greatness and ruin
+disposed the fond credulity of the people to deplore, and even to
+exaggerate, the afflictions of the queen of cities. The clergy, who
+applied to recent events the lofty metaphors of Oriental prophecy, were
+sometimes tempted to confound the destruction of the capital and the
+dissolution of the globe.
+
+
+
+SILK
+
+
+I need not explain that _silk_ is originally spun from the bowels of a
+caterpillar, and that it composes the golden tomb from whence a worm
+emerges in the form of a butterfly. Till the reign of Justinian, the
+silkworms who feed on the leaves of the white mulberry-tree were
+confined to China; those of the pine, the oak, and the ash were common
+in the forests both of Asia and Europe: but as their education is more
+difficult, and their produce more uncertain, they were generally
+neglected, except in the little island of Ceos, near the coast of
+Attica. A thin gauze was procured from their webs, and this Cean
+manufacture, the invention of a woman, for female use, was long admired
+both in the East and at Rome. Whatever suspicions may be raised by the
+garments of the Medes and Assyrians, Virgil is the most ancient writer
+who expressly mentions the soft wool which was combed from the trees of
+the Seres or Chinese; and this natural error, less marvelous than the
+truth, was slowly corrected by the knowledge of a valuable insect, the
+first artificer of the luxury of nations. That rare and elegant luxury
+was censured, in the reign of Tiberius, by the gravest of the Romans;
+and Pliny, in affected though forcible language, has condemned the
+thirst of gain which explores the last confines of the earth for the
+pernicious purpose of exposing to the public eye naked draperies and
+transparent matrons. A dress which showed the turn of the limbs, the
+color of the skin, might gratify vanity or provoke desire; the silks
+which had been closely woven in China were sometimes unraveled by the
+Phoenician women, and the precious materials were multiplied by a
+looser texture and the intermixture of linen threads. Two hundred years
+after the age of Pliny the use of pure or even of mixed silks was
+confined to the female sex, till the opulent citizens of Rome and the
+provinces were insensibly familiarized with the example of Elagabalus,
+the first who, by this effeminate habit, had sullied the dignity of an
+emperor and a man. Aurelian complained that a pound of silk was sold at
+Rome for twelve ounces of gold; but the supply increased with the
+demand, and the price diminished with the supply. If accident or
+monopoly sometimes raised the value even above the standard of Aurelian,
+the manufacturers of Tyre and Berytus were sometimes compelled, by the
+operation of the same causes, to content themselves with a ninth part of
+that extravagant rate. A law was thought necessary to discriminate the
+dress of comedians from that of senators; and of the silk exported from
+its native country the far greater part was consumed by the subjects of
+Justinian. They were still more intimately acquainted with a shell-fish
+of the Mediterranean, surnamed the silkworm of the sea: the fine wool or
+hair by which the mother-of-pearl affixes itself to the rock is now
+manufactured for curiosity rather than use; and a robe obtained from the
+same singular materials was the gift of the Roman Emperor to the satraps
+of Armenia.
+
+A valuable merchandise of small bulk is capable of defraying the expense
+of land carriage; and the caravans traversed the whole latitude of Asia
+in two hundred and forty-three days from the Chinese Ocean to the
+sea-coast of Syria. Silk was immediately delivered to the Romans by the
+Persian merchants who frequented the fairs of Armenia and Nisibis; but
+this trade, which in the intervals of truce was oppressed by avarice and
+jealousy, was totally interrupted by the long wars of the rival
+monarchies. The great king might proudly number Sogdiana, and even
+_Serica_, among the provinces of his empire: but his real dominion was
+bounded by the Oxus; and his useful intercourse with the Sogdoites
+beyond the river depended on the pleasure of their conquerors the white
+Huns, and the Turks, who successively reigned over that industrious
+people. Yet the most savage dominion has not extirpated the seeds of
+agriculture and commerce, in a region which is celebrated as one of the
+four gardens of Asia; the cities of Samarcand and Bochara are
+advantageously seated for the exchange of its various productions; and
+their merchants purchased from the Chinese the raw or manufactured silk
+which they transported into Persia for the use of the Roman Empire. In
+the vain capital of China, the Sogdian caravans were entertained as the
+suppliant embassies of tributary kingdoms; and if they returned in
+safety, the bold adventure was rewarded with exorbitant gain. But the
+difficult and perilous march from Samarcand to the first town of Shensi
+could not be performed in less than sixty, eighty, or one hundred days:
+as soon as they had passed the Jaxartes they entered the desert; and the
+wandering hordes, unless they are restrained by armies and garrisons,
+have always considered the citizen and the traveler as the objects of
+lawful rapine. To escape the Tartar robbers and the tyrants of Persia,
+the silk caravans explored a more southern road; they traversed the
+mountains of Thibet, descended the streams of the Ganges or the Indus,
+and patiently expected, in the ports of Guzerat and Malabar, the annual
+fleets of the West. But the dangers of the desert were found less
+intolerable than toil, hunger, and the loss of time; the attempt was
+seldom renewed, and the only European who has passed that unfrequented
+way applauds his own diligence, that in nine months after his departure
+from Pekin, he reached the mouth of the Indus. The ocean, however, was
+open to the free communication of mankind. From the great river to the
+tropic of Cancer, the provinces of China were subdued and civilized by
+the emperors of the North; they were filled about the time of the
+Christian era with cities and men, mulberry-trees and their precious
+inhabitants; and if the Chinese, with the knowledge of the compass, had
+possessed the genius of the Greeks or Phoenicians, they might have
+spread their discoveries over the southern hemisphere. I am not
+qualified to examine, and I am not disposed to believe, their distant
+voyages to the Persian Gulf or the Cape of Good Hope; but their
+ancestors might equal the labors and success of the present race, and
+the sphere of their navigation might extend from the Isles of Japan to
+the Straits of Malacca,--the pillars, if we may apply that name, of an
+Oriental Hercules. Without losing sight of land, they might sail along
+the coast to the extreme promontory of Achin, which is annually visited
+by ten or twelve ships laden with the productions, the manufactures, and
+even the artificers of China; the Island of Sumatra and the opposite
+peninsula are faintly delineated as the regions of gold and silver; and
+the trading cities named in the geography of Ptolemy may indicate that
+this wealth was not solely derived from the mines. The direct interval
+between Sumatra and Ceylon is about three hundred leagues: the Chinese
+and Indian navigators were conducted by the flight of birds and
+periodical winds; and the ocean might be securely traversed in
+square-built ships, which instead of iron were sewed together with the
+strong thread of the cocoanut. Ceylon, Serendib, or Taprobana, was
+divided between two hostile princes; one of whom possessed the
+mountains, the elephants, and the luminous carbuncle, and the other
+enjoyed the more solid riches of domestic industry, foreign trade, and
+the capacious harbor of Trinquemale, which received and dismissed the
+fleets of the East and West. In this hospitable isle, at an equal
+distance (as it was computed) from their respective countries, the silk
+merchants of China, who had collected in their voyages aloes, cloves,
+nutmeg, and sandal-wood, maintained a free and beneficial commerce with
+the inhabitants of the Persian Gulf. The subjects of the great king
+exalted, without a rival, his power and magnificence; and the Roman, who
+confounded their vanity by comparing his paltry coin with a gold medal
+of the Emperor Anastasius, had sailed to Ceylon in an Æthiopian ship as
+a simple passenger.
+
+As silk became of indispensable use, the Emperor Justinian saw with
+concern that the Persians had occupied by land and sea the monopoly of
+this important supply, and that the wealth of his subjects was
+continually drained by a nation of enemies and idolaters. An active
+government would have restored the trade of Egypt and the navigation of
+the Red Sea, which had decayed with the prosperity of the empire; and
+the Roman vessels might have sailed, for the purchase of silk, to the
+ports of Ceylon, of Malacca, or even of China. Justinian embraced a more
+humble expedient, and solicited the aid of his Christian allies, the
+Æthiopians of Abyssinia, who had recently acquired the arts of
+navigation, the spirit of trade, and the seaport of Adulis, still
+decorated with the trophies of a Grecian conqueror. Along the African
+coast they penetrated to the Equator in search of gold, emeralds, and
+aromatics; but they wisely declined an unequal competition, in which
+they must be always prevented by the vicinity of the Persians to the
+markets of India; and the Emperor submitted to the disappointment till
+his wishes were gratified by an unexpected event. The gospel had been
+preached to the Indians; a bishop already governed the Christians of St.
+Thomas on the pepper coast of Malabar; a church was planted in Ceylon,
+and the missionaries pursued the footsteps of commerce to the
+extremities of Asia. Two Persian monks had long resided in China,
+perhaps in the royal city of Nankin, the seat of a monarch addicted to
+foreign superstitions, and who actually received an embassy from the
+Isle of Ceylon. Amidst their pious occupations they viewed with a
+curious eye the common dress of the Chinese, the manufactures of silk,
+and the myriads of silkworms, whose education (either on trees or in
+houses) had once been considered as the labor of queens. They soon
+discovered that it was impracticable to transport the short-lived
+insect, but that in the eggs a numerous progeny might be preserved and
+multiplied in a distant climate. Religion or interest had more power
+over the Persian monks than the love of their country: after a long
+journey they arrived at Constantinople, imparted their project to the
+Emperor, and were liberally encouraged by the gifts and promises of
+Justinian. To the historians of that prince, a campaign at the foot of
+Mount Caucasus has seemed more deserving of a minute relation than the
+labors of these missionaries of commerce, who again entered China,
+deceived a jealous people by concealing the eggs of the silkworm in a
+hollow cane, and returned in triumph with the spoils of the East. Under
+their direction the eggs were hatched at the proper season by the
+artificial heat of dung; the worms were fed with mulberry leaves; they
+lived and labored in a foreign climate; a sufficient number of
+butterflies were saved to propagate the race, and trees were planted to
+supply the nourishment of the rising generations. Experience and
+reflection corrected the errors of a new attempt, and the Sogdoite
+ambassadors acknowledged in the succeeding reign that the Romans were
+not inferior to the natives of China in the education of the insects and
+the manufactures of silk, in which both China and Constantinople have
+been surpassed by the industry of modern Europe. I am not insensible of
+the benefits of elegant luxury; yet I reflect with some pain that if the
+importers of silk had introduced the art of printing, already practiced
+by the Chinese, the comedies of Menander and the entire decades of Livy
+would have been perpetuated in the editions of the sixth century.
+
+
+
+MAHOMET'S DEATH AND CHARACTER
+
+
+Till the age of sixty-three years, the strength of Mahomet was equal to
+the temporal and spiritual fatigues of his mission. His epileptic fits,
+an absurd calumny of the Greeks, would be an object of pity rather than
+abhorrence; but he seriously believed that he was poisoned at Chaibar by
+the revenge of a Jewish female. During four years the health of the
+prophet declined; his infirmities increased; but his mortal disease was
+a fever of fourteen days which deprived him by intervals of the use of
+reason. As soon as he was conscious of his danger, he edified his
+brethren by the humility of his virtue or penitence. "If there be any
+man," said the apostle from the pulpit, "whom I have unjustly scourged,
+I submit my own back to the lash of retaliation. Have I aspersed the
+reputation of a Mussulman? let him proclaim _my_ thoughts in the face of
+the congregation. Has any one been despoiled of his goods? the little
+that I possess shall compensate the principal and the interest of the
+debt." "Yes," replied a voice from the crowd, "I am entitled to three
+drams of silver." Mahomet heard the complaint, satisfied the demand, and
+thanked his creditor for accusing him in this world rather than at the
+day of judgment. He beheld with temperate firmness the approach of
+death; enfranchised his slaves (seventeen men, as they are named, and
+eleven women), minutely directed the order of his funeral, and moderated
+the lamentations of his weeping friends, on whom he bestowed the
+benediction of peace. Till the third day before his death, he regularly
+performed the function of public prayer: the choice of Abubeker to
+supply his place appeared to mark that ancient and faithful friend as
+his successor in the sacerdotal and regal office; but he prudently
+declined the risk and envy of a more explicit nomination. At a moment
+when his faculties were visibly impaired, he called for pen and ink to
+write, or more properly, to dictate, a Divine book, the sum and
+accomplishment of all his revelations: a dispute arose in the chamber
+whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority of the Koran,
+and the prophet was forced to reprove the indecent vehemence of his
+disciples. If the slightest credit may be afforded to the traditions of
+his wives and companions, he maintained, in the bosom of his family, and
+to the last moments of his life, the dignity of an apostle and the faith
+of an enthusiast; described the visits of Gabriel, who bade an
+everlasting farewell to the earth, and expressed his lively confidence
+not only of the mercy but of the favor of the Supreme Being. In a
+familiar discourse he had mentioned his special prerogative, that the
+angel of death was not allowed to take his soul till he had respectfully
+asked the permission of the prophet. The request was granted; and
+Mahomet immediately fell into the agony of his dissolution: his head was
+reclined on the lap of Ayesha, the best beloved of all his wives; he
+fainted with the violence of pain; recovering his spirits, he raised his
+eyes towards the roof of the house, and with a steady look, though a
+faltering voice, uttered the last broken though articulate words:--"O
+God! ... pardon my sins ... Yes ... I come ... among my fellow-citizens
+on high;" and thus peaceably expired on a carpet spread upon the floor.
+An expedition for the conquest of Syria was stopped by this mournful
+event: the army halted at the gates of Medina, the chiefs were assembled
+round their dying master. The city, more especially the house, of the
+prophet, was a scene of clamorous sorrow or silent despair: fanaticism
+alone could suggest a ray of hope and consolation. "How can he be
+dead--our witness, our intercessor, our mediator with God? By God, he is
+not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is wrapped in a holy trance, and
+speedily will he return to his faithful people." The evidence of sense
+was disregarded, and Omar, unsheathing his cimeter, threatened to strike
+off the heads of the infidels who should dare to affirm that the prophet
+was no more. The tumult was appeased by the weight and moderation of
+Abubeker. "Is it Mahomet," said he to Omar and the multitude, "or the
+God of Mahomet, whom you worship? The God of Mahomet liveth forever; but
+the apostle was a mortal like ourselves, and according to his own
+prediction, he has experienced the common fate of mortality." He was
+piously interred by the hands of his nearest kinsman, on the same spot
+on which he expired. Medina has been sanctified by the death and burial
+of Mahomet, and the innumerable pilgrims of Mecca often turn aside from
+the way, to bow in voluntary devotion before the simple tomb of the
+prophet.
+
+At the conclusion of the life of Mahomet it may perhaps be expected that
+I should balance his faults and virtues, that I should decide whether
+the title of enthusiast or impostor more properly belongs to that
+extraordinary man. Had I been intimately conversant with the son of
+Abdallah, the task would still be difficult and the success uncertain:
+at the distance of twelve centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade
+through a cloud of religious incense; and could I truly delineate the
+portrait of an hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to
+the solitary of Mount Hera, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the
+conqueror of Arabia. The author of a mighty revolution appears to have
+been endowed with a pious and contemplative disposition; so soon as
+marriage had raised him above the pressure of want, he avoided the paths
+of ambition and avarice; and till the age of forty he lived with
+innocence, and would have died without a name. The unity of God is an
+idea most congenial to nature and reason; and a slight conversation with
+the Jews and Christians would teach him to despise and detest the
+idolatry of Mecca. It was the duty of a man and a citizen to impart the
+doctrine of salvation, to rescue his country from the dominion of sin
+and error. The energy of a mind incessantly bent on the same object
+would convert a general obligation into a particular call; the warm
+suggestions of the understanding or the fancy would be felt as the
+inspirations of Heaven; the labor of thought would expire in rapture and
+vision; and the inward sensation, the invisible monitor, would be
+described with the form and attributes of an angel of God. From
+enthusiasm to imposture the step is perilous and slippery: the dæmon of
+Socrates affords a memorable instance how a wise man may deceive
+himself, how a good man may deceive others, how the conscience may
+slumber in a mixed and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary
+fraud. Charity may believe that the original motives of Mahomet were
+those of pure and genuine benevolence; but a human missionary is
+incapable of cherishing the obstinate unbelievers who reject his claims,
+despise his arguments, and persecute his life; he might forgive his
+personal adversaries, he may lawfully hate the enemies of God; the stern
+passions of pride and revenge were kindled in the bosom of Mahomet, and
+he sighed, like the prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of the
+rebels whom he had condemned. The injustice of Mecca and the choice of
+Medina transformed the citizen into a prince, the humble preacher into
+the leader of armies; but his sword was consecrated by the example of
+the saints, and the same God who afflicts a sinful world with pestilence
+and earthquakes might inspire for their conversion or chastisement the
+valor of his servants. In the exercise of political government, he was
+compelled to abate of the stern rigor of fanaticism, to comply in some
+measure with the prejudices and passions of his followers, and to employ
+even the vices of mankind as the instruments of their salvation. The use
+of fraud and perfidy, of cruelty and injustice, were often subservient
+to the propagation of the faith; and Mahomet commanded or approved the
+assassination of the Jews and idolaters who had escaped from the field
+of battle. By the repetition of such acts the character of Mahomet must
+have been gradually stained; and the influence of such pernicious habits
+would be poorly compensated by the practice of the personal and social
+virtues which are necessary to maintain the reputation of a prophet
+among his sectaries and friends. Of his last years, ambition was the
+ruling passion; and a politician will suspect that he secretly smiled
+(the victorious impostor!) at the enthusiasm of his youth and the
+credulity of his proselytes. A philosopher will observe that _their_
+credulity and _his_ success would tend more strongly to fortify the
+assurance of his Divine mission; that his interest and religion were
+inseparately connected; and that his conscience would be soothed by the
+persuasion that he alone was absolved by the Deity from the obligation
+of positive and moral laws. If he retained any vestige of his native
+innocence, the sins of Mahomet may be allowed as an evidence of his
+sincerity. In the support of truth, the arts of fraud and fiction may be
+deemed less criminal; and he would have started at the foulness of the
+means, had he not been satisfied of the importance and justice of the
+end. Even in a conqueror or a priest, I can surprise a word or action of
+unaffected humanity; and the decree of Mahomet that in the sale of
+captives the mothers should never be separated from their children, may
+suspend or moderate the censure of the historian.
+
+The good sense of Mahomet despised the pomp of royalty; the apostle of
+God submitted to the menial offices of the family; he kindled the fire,
+swept the floor, milked the ewes, and mended with his own hands his
+shoes and his woolen garment. Disdaining the penance and merit of a
+hermit, he observed, without effort or vanity, the abstemious diet of an
+Arab and a soldier. On solemn occasions he feasted his companions with
+rustic and hospitable plenty; but in his domestic life, many weeks would
+elapse without a fire being kindled on the hearth of the prophet. The
+interdiction of wine was confirmed by his example; his hunger was
+appeased with a sparing allowance of barley bread; he delighted in the
+taste of milk and honey, but his ordinary food consisted of dates and
+water. Perfumes and women were the two sensual enjoyments which his
+nature required and his religion did not forbid; and Mahomet affirmed
+that the fervor of his devotion was increased by these innocent
+pleasures. The heat of the climate inflames the blood of the Arabs, and
+their libidinous complexion has been noticed by the writers of
+antiquity. Their incontinence was regulated by the civil and religious
+laws of the Koran; their incestuous alliances were blamed; the boundless
+license of polygamy was reduced to four legitimate wives or concubines:
+their rights both of bed and of dowry were equitably determined; the
+freedom of divorce was discouraged; adultery was condemned as a capital
+offense; and fornication in either sex was punished with a hundred
+stripes. Such were the calm and rational precepts of the legislator, but
+in his private conduct Mahomet indulged the appetites of a man and
+abused the claims of a prophet. A special revelation dispensed him from
+the laws which he had imposed on his nation: the female sex, without
+reserve, was abandoned to his desires; and this singular prerogative
+excited the envy rather than the scandal, the veneration rather than the
+envy, of the devout Mussulmans. If we remember the seven hundred wives
+and three hundred concubines of the wise Solomon, we shall applaud the
+modesty of the Arabian, who espoused no more than seventeen or fifteen
+wives; eleven are enumerated, who occupied at Medina their separate
+apartments round the house of the apostle, and enjoyed in their turns
+the favor of his conjugal society. What is singular enough, they were
+all widows, excepting only Ayesha, the daughter of Abubeker. _She_ was
+doubtless a virgin, since Mahomet consummated his nuptials (such is the
+premature ripeness of the climate) when she was only nine years of age.
+The youth, the beauty, the spirit of Ayesha gave her a superior
+ascendant; she was beloved and trusted by the prophet, and after his
+death the daughter of Abubeker was long revered as the mother of the
+faithful. Her behavior had been ambiguous and indiscreet; in a nocturnal
+march she was accidentally left behind, and in the morning Ayesha
+returned to the camp with a man. The temper of Mahomet was inclined to
+jealousy; but a Divine revelation assured him of her innocence: he
+chastised her accusers, and published a law of domestic peace, that no
+woman should be condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her in the
+act of adultery. In his adventures with Zeineb the wife of Zeid, and
+with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the interest
+of his reputation. At the house of Zeid, his freedman and adopted son,
+he beheld in a loose undress the beauty of Zeineb, and burst forth into
+an ejaculation of devotion and desire. The servile, or grateful,
+freedman understood the hint, and yielded without hesitation to the love
+of his benefactor. But as the filial relation had excited some doubt and
+scandal, the angel Gabriel descended from heaven to ratify the deed, to
+annul the adoption, and gently to reprove the apostle for distrusting
+the indulgence of his God. One of his wives, Hafna the daughter of Omar,
+surprised him on her own bed, in the embraces of his Egyptian captive:
+she promised secrecy and forgiveness; he swore that he would renounce
+the possession of Mary. Both parties forgot their engagements; and
+Gabriel again descended with a chapter of the Koran, to absolve him from
+his oath and to exhort him freely to enjoy his captives and concubines,
+without listening to the clamors of his wives. In a solitary retreat of
+thirty days, he labored, alone with Mary, to fulfill the commands of the
+angel. When his love and revenge were satiated, he summoned to his
+presence his eleven wives, reproached their disobedience and
+indiscretion, and threatened them with a sentence of divorce, both in
+this world and in the next; a dreadful sentence, since those who had
+ascended the bed of the prophet were forever excluded from the hope of a
+second marriage. Perhaps the incontinence of Mahomet may be palliated by
+the tradition of his natural or preternatural gifts; he united the manly
+virtue of thirty of the children of Adam; and the apostle might rival
+the thirteenth labor of the Grecian Hercules. A more serious and decent
+excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to Cadijah. During the twenty-four
+years of their marriage, her youthful husband abstained from the right
+of polygamy, and the pride or tenderness of the venerable matron was
+never insulted by the society of a rival. After her death he placed her
+in the rank of the four perfect women, with the sister of Moses, the
+mother of Jesus, and Fatima, the best beloved of his daughters. "Was she
+not old?" said Ayesha, with the insolence of a blooming beauty: "has not
+God given you a better in her place?" "No, by God," said Mahomet, with
+an effusion of honest gratitude, "there never can be a better! She
+believed in me when men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was
+poor and persecuted by the world."
+
+
+
+THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY
+
+
+I should deceive the expectation of the reader if I passed in silence
+the fate of the Alexandrian library as it is described by the learned
+Abulpharagius. The spirit of Amrou was more curious and liberal than
+that of his brethren, and in his leisure hours the Arabian chief was
+pleased with the conversation of John, the last disciple of Ammonius,
+and who derived the surname of _Philoponus_ from his laborious studies
+of grammar and philosophy. Emboldened by this familiar intercourse,
+Philoponus presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in _his_ opinion,
+contemptible in that of the Barbarians--the royal library, which alone
+among the spoils of Alexandria had not been appropriated by the visit
+and the seal of the conqueror. Amrou was inclined to gratify the wish of
+the grammarian, but his rigid integrity refused to alienate the minutest
+object without the consent of the caliph; and the well-known answer of
+Omar was inspired by the ignorance of a fanatic: "If these writings of
+the Greeks agree with the book of God, they are useless, and need not be
+preserved; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be
+destroyed." The sentence was executed with blind obedience, the volumes
+of paper or parchment were distributed to the four thousand baths of the
+city; and such was their incredible multitude, that six months were
+barely sufficient for the consumption of this precious fuel. Since the
+Dynasties of Abulpharagius have been given to the world in a Latin
+version, the tale has been repeatedly transcribed; and every scholar,
+with pious indignation, has deplored the irreparable shipwreck of the
+learning, the arts, and the genius, of antiquity. For my own part, I am
+strongly tempted to deny both the fact and the consequences. The fact is
+indeed marvelous. "Read and wonder!" says the historian himself; and the
+solitary report of a stranger who wrote at the end of six hundred years
+on the confines of Media is overbalanced by the silence of two annalists
+of a more early date, both Christians, both natives of Egypt, and the
+most ancient of whom, the patriarch Eutychius, has amply described the
+conquest of Alexandria. The rigid sentence of Omar is repugnant to the
+sound and orthodox precept of the Mahometan casuists: they expressly
+declare that the religious books of the Jews and Christians which are
+acquired by the right of war should never be committed to the flames;
+and that the works of profane science, historians or poets, physicians
+or philosophers, may be lawfully applied to the use of the faithful. A
+more destructive zeal may perhaps be attributed to the first successors
+of Mahomet; yet in this instance, the conflagration would have speedily
+expired in the deficiency of materials. I shall not recapitulate the
+disasters of the Alexandrian library, the involuntary flame that was
+kindled by Cæsar in his own defense, or the mischievous bigotry of the
+Christians, who studied to destroy the monuments of idolatry. But if we
+gradually descend from the age of the Antonines to that of Theodosius,
+we shall learn from a chain of contemporary witnesses that the royal
+palace and the temple of Serapis no longer contained the four, or the
+seven, hundred thousand volumes which had been assembled by the
+curiosity and magnificence of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and seat
+of the patriarchs might be enriched with a repository of books; but if
+the ponderous mass of Arian and Monophysite controversy were indeed
+consumed in the public baths, a philosopher may allow, with a smile,
+that it was ultimately devoted to the benefit of mankind. I sincerely
+regret the more valuable libraries which have been involved in the ruin
+of the Roman Empire; but when I seriously compute the lapse of ages, the
+waste of ignorance, and the calamities of war, our treasures, rather
+than our losses, are the objects of my surprise. Many curious and
+interesting facts are buried in oblivion; the three great historians of
+Rome have been transmitted to our hands in a mutilated state, and we are
+deprived of many pleasing compositions of the lyric, iambic, and
+dramatic poetry of the Greeks. Yet we should gratefully remember that
+the mischances of time and accident have spared the classic works to
+which the suffrage of antiquity had adjudged the first place of genius
+and glory; the teachers of ancient knowledge who are still extant had
+perused and compared the writings of their predecessors; nor can it
+fairly be presumed that any important truth, any useful discovery in art
+or nature, has been snatched away from the curiosity of modern ages.
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: _RUINED ROME._
+  From a Photograph.
+    TEMPLE OF ROMULUS
+    BASILICA OF CONSTANTINE
+    COLOSSEUM
+    ARCH OF TITUS]
+
+
+
+THE FINAL RUIN OF ROME
+
+
+In the last days of Pope Eugenius the Fourth, two of his servants, the
+learned Poggius and a friend, ascended the Capitoline Hill, reposed
+themselves among the ruins of columns and temples, and viewed from that
+commanding spot the wide and various prospect of desolation. The place
+and the object gave ample scope for moralizing on the vicissitudes of
+fortune, which spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which
+buries empires and cities in a common grave; and it was agreed that in
+proportion to her former greatness the fall of Rome was the more awful
+and deplorable. "Her primeval state, such as she might appear in a
+remote age, when Evander entertained the stranger of Troy, has been
+delineated by the fancy of Virgil. This Tarpeian Rock was then a savage
+and solitary thicket; in the time of the poet it was crowned with the
+golden roofs of a temple; the temple is overthrown, the gold has been
+pillaged, the wheel of fortune has accomplished her revolution, and the
+sacred ground is again disfigured with thorns and brambles. The hill of
+the Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman Empire,
+the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings; illustrated by the
+footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils and tributes of
+so many nations. This spectacle of the world, how is it fallen! how
+changed! how defaced! The path of victory is obliterated by vines, and
+the benches of the senators are concealed by a dunghill. Cast your eyes
+on the Palatine Hill, and seek among the shapeless and enormous
+fragments the marble theatre, the obelisks, the colossal statues, the
+porticos of Nero's palace; survey the other hills of the city,--the
+vacant space is interrupted only by ruins and gardens. The Forum of the
+Roman people, where they assembled to enact their laws and elect their
+magistrates, is now inclosed for the cultivation of pot-herbs, or thrown
+open for the reception of swine and buffaloes. The public and private
+edifices that were founded for eternity lie prostrate, naked, and
+broken, like the limbs of a mighty giant; and the ruin is the more
+visible, from the stupendous relics that have survived the injuries of
+time and fortune."
+
+These relics are minutely described by Poggius, one of the first who
+raised his eyes from the monuments of legendary to those of classic
+superstition. 1. Besides a bridge, an arch, a sepulchre, and the
+pyramid of Cestius, he could discern, of the age of the republic, a
+double row of vaults in the salt office of the Capitol, which were
+inscribed with the name and munificence of Catulus. 2. Eleven temples
+were visible in some degree, from the perfect form of the Pantheon to
+the three arches and a marble column of the temple of Peace which
+Vespasian erected after the civil wars and the Jewish triumph. 3. Of the
+number which he rashly defines, of seven _thermæ_, or public baths, none
+were sufficiently entire to represent the use and distribution of the
+several parts; but those of Diocletian and Antoninus Caracalla still
+retained the titles of the founders and astonished the curious spectator
+who in observing their solidity and extent, the variety of marbles, the
+size and multitude of the columns, compared the labor and expense with
+the use and importance. Of the baths of Constantine, of Alexander, of
+Domitian, or rather of Titus, some vestige might yet be found. 4. The
+triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine were entire, both
+the structure and the inscriptions; a falling fragment was honored with
+the name of Trajan; and two arches then extant in the Flaminian Way have
+been ascribed to the baser memory of Faustina and Gallienus. 5. After
+the wonder of the Coliseum, Poggius might have overlooked a small
+amphitheatre of brick, most probably for the use of the prætorian camp;
+the theatres of Marcellus and Pompey were occupied in a great measure by
+public and private buildings; and in the Circus, Agonalis and Maximus,
+little more than the situation and the form could be investigated. 6.
+The columns of Trajan and Antonine were still erect; but the Egyptian
+obelisks were broken or buried. A people of gods and heroes, the
+workmanship of art, was reduced to one equestrian figure of gilt brass
+and to five marble statues, of which the most conspicuous were the two
+horses of Phidias and Praxiteles. 7. The two mausoleums or sepulchres of
+Augustus and Hadrian could not totally be lost; but the former was only
+visible as a mound of earth, and the latter, the castle of St. Angelo,
+had acquired the name and appearance of a modern fortress. With the
+addition of some separate and nameless columns, such were the remains of
+the ancient city; for the marks of a more recent structure might be
+detected in the walls, which formed a circumference of ten miles,
+included three hundred and seventy-nine turrets, and opened into the
+country by thirteen gates.
+
+This melancholy picture was drawn above nine hundred years after the
+fall of the Western Empire, and even of the Gothic kingdom of Italy. A
+long period of distress and anarchy, in which empire, and arts, and
+riches had migrated from the banks of the Tiber, was incapable of
+restoring or adorning the city; and as all that is human must retrograde
+if it do not advance, every successive age must have hastened the ruin
+of the works of antiquity. To measure the progress of decay, and to
+ascertain, at each era, the state of each edifice, would be an endless
+and a useless labor; and I shall content myself with two observations
+which will introduce a short inquiry into the general causes and
+effects. 1. Two hundred years before the eloquent complaint of Poggius,
+an anonymous writer composed a description of Rome. His ignorance may
+repeat the same objects under strange and fabulous names. Yet this
+barbarous topographer had eyes and ears; he could observe the visible
+remains; he could listen to the tradition of the people; and he
+distinctly enumerates seven theatres, eleven baths, twelve arches, and
+eighteen palaces, of which many had disappeared before the time of
+Poggius. It is apparent that many stately monuments of antiquity
+survived till a late period, and that the principles of destruction
+acted with vigorous and increasing energy in the thirteenth and
+fourteenth centuries. 2. The same reflection must be applied to the
+three last ages; and we should vainly seek the Septizonium of Severus,
+which is celebrated by Petrarch and the antiquarians of the sixteenth
+century. While the Roman edifices were still entire, the first blows,
+however weighty and impetuous, were resisted by the solidity of the mass
+and the harmony of the parts; but the slightest touch would precipitate
+the fragments of arches and columns that already nodded to their fall.
+
+After a diligent inquiry, I can discern four principal causes of the
+ruin of Rome, which continued to operate in a period of more than a
+thousand years. I. The injuries of time and nature. II. The hostile
+attacks of the Barbarians and Christians. III. The use and abuse of the
+materials. And IV. The domestic quarrels of the Romans.
+
+I. The art of man is able to construct monuments far more permanent than
+the narrow span of his own existence; yet these monuments, like himself,
+are perishable and frail; and in the boundless annals of time his life
+and his labors must equally be measured as a fleeting moment. Of a
+simple and solid edifice it is not easy, however, to circumscribe the
+duration. As the wonders of ancient days, the Pyramids attracted the
+curiosity of the ancients: a hundred generations, the leaves of autumn,
+have dropped into the grave; and after the fall of the Pharaohs and
+Ptolemies, the Cæsars and caliphs, the same Pyramids stand erect and
+unshaken above the floods of the Nile. A complex figure of various and
+minute parts is more accessible to injury and decay; and the silent
+lapse of time is often accelerated by hurricanes and earthquakes, by
+fires and inundations. The air and earth have doubtless been shaken, and
+the lofty turrets of Rome have tottered from their foundations, but the
+seven hills do not appear to be placed on the great cavities of the
+globe; nor has the city in any age been exposed to the convulsions of
+nature which in the climate of Antioch, Lisbon, or Lima, have crumbled
+in a few moments the works of ages in the dust. Fire is the most
+powerful agent of life and death: the rapid mischief may be kindled and
+propagated by the industry or negligence of mankind; and every period of
+the Roman annals is marked by the repetition of similar calamities. A
+memorable conflagration, the guilt or misfortune of Nero's reign,
+continued, though with unequal fury, either six or nine days.
+Innumerable buildings, crowded in close and crooked streets, supplied
+perpetual fuel for the flames; and when they ceased, four only of the
+fourteen regions were left entire; three were totally destroyed, and
+seven were deformed by the relics of smoking and lacerated edifices. In
+the full meridian of empire, the metropolis arose with fresh beauty from
+her ashes; yet the memory of the old deplored the irreparable losses,
+the arts of Greece, the trophies of victory, the monuments of primitive
+or fabulous antiquity. In the days of distress and anarchy every wound
+is mortal, every fall irretrievable; nor can the damage be restored
+either by the public care of government or the activity of private
+interest. Yet two causes may be alleged, which render the calamity of
+fire more destructive to a flourishing than a decayed city. 1. The more
+combustible materials of brick, timber, and metals are first melted and
+consumed, but the flames may play without injury or effect on the naked
+walls and massy arches that have been despoiled of their ornaments. 2.
+It is among the common and plebeian habitations that a mischievous spark
+is most easily blown to a conflagration; but as soon as they are
+devoured, the greater edifices which have resisted or escaped are left
+as so many islands in a state of solitude and safety. From her
+situation, Rome is exposed to the danger of frequent inundations.
+Without excepting the Tiber, the rivers that descend from either side of
+the Apennine have a short and irregular course; a shallow stream in the
+summer heats; an impetuous torrent when it is swelled in the spring or
+winter by the fall of rain and the melting of the snows. When the
+current is repelled from the sea by adverse winds, when the ordinary bed
+is inadequate to the weight of waters, they rise above the banks and
+overspread without limits or control the plains and cities of the
+adjacent country. Soon after the triumph of the first Punic War, the
+Tiber was increased by unusual rains; and the inundation, surpassing all
+former measure of time and place, destroyed all the buildings that were
+situate below the hills of Rome. According to the variety of ground, the
+same mischief was produced by different means; and the edifices were
+either swept away by the sudden impulse, or dissolved and undermined by
+the long continuance of the flood. Under the reign of Augustus the same
+calamity was renewed: the lawless river overturned the palaces and
+temples on its banks; and after the labors of the Emperor in cleansing
+and widening the bed that was incumbered with ruins, the vigilance of
+his successors was exercised by similar dangers and designs. The project
+of diverting into new channels the Tiber itself, or some of the
+dependent streams, was long opposed by superstition and local interests;
+nor did the use compensate the toil and costs of the tardy and imperfect
+execution. The servitude of rivers is the noblest and most important
+victory which man has obtained over the licentiousness of nature; and if
+such were the ravages of the Tiber under a firm and active government,
+what could oppose, or who can enumerate, the injuries of the city after
+the fall of the Western Empire? A remedy was at length produced by the
+evil itself: the accumulation of rubbish and the earth that has been
+washed down from the hills is supposed to have elevated the plain of
+Rome fourteen or fifteen feet perhaps above the ancient level: and the
+modern city is less accessible to the attacks of the river.
+
+II. The crowd of writers of every nation who impute the destruction of
+the Roman monuments to the Goths and the Christians, have neglected to
+inquire how far they were animated by a hostile principle, and how far
+they possessed the means and the leisure to satiate their enmity. In the
+preceding volumes of this history I have described the triumph of
+barbarism and religion; and I can only resume in a few words their real
+or imaginary connection with the ruin of ancient Rome. Our fancy may
+create or adopt a pleasing romance: that the Goths and Vandals sallied
+from Scandinavia, ardent to avenge the flight of Odin, to break the
+chains and to chastise the oppressors of mankind; that they wished to
+burn the records of classic literature, and to found their national
+architecture on the broken members of the Tuscan and Corinthian orders.
+But in simple truth, the Northern conquerors were neither sufficiently
+savage nor sufficiently refined to entertain such aspiring ideas of
+destruction and revenge. The shepherds of Scythia and Germany had been
+educated in the armies of the Empire, whose discipline they acquired and
+whose weakness they invaded; with the familiar use of the Latin tongue,
+they had learned to reverence the name and titles of Rome; and though
+incapable of emulating, they were more inclined to admire than to
+abolish the arts and studies of a brighter period. In the transient
+possession of a rich and unresisting capital, the soldiers of Alaric and
+Genseric were stimulated by the passions of a victorious army; amidst
+the wanton indulgence of lust or cruelty, portable wealth was the object
+of their search; nor could they derive either pride or pleasure from the
+unprofitable reflection that they had battered to the ground the works
+of the consuls and Cæsars. Their moments were indeed precious: the Goths
+evacuated Rome on the sixth, the Vandals on the fifteenth day, and
+though it be far more difficult to build than to destroy, their hasty
+assault would have made a slight impression on the solid piles of
+antiquity. We may remember that both Alaric and Genseric affected to
+spare the buildings of the city; that they subsisted in strength and
+beauty under the auspicious government of Theodoric; and that the
+momentary resentment of Totila was disarmed by his own temper and the
+advice of his friends and enemies. From these innocent Barbarians the
+reproach may be transferred to the Catholics of Rome. The statues,
+altars, and houses of the dæmons were an abomination in their eyes; and
+in the absolute command of the city, they might labor with zeal and
+perseverance to erase the idolatry of their ancestors. The demolition of
+the temples in the East affords to _them_ an example of conduct, and to
+_us_ an argument of belief; and it is probable that a portion of guilt
+or merit may be imputed with justice to the Roman proselytes. Yet their
+abhorrence was confined to the monuments of heathen superstition; and
+the civil structures that were dedicated to the business or pleasure of
+society might be preserved without injury or scandal. The change of
+religion was accomplished not by a popular tumult, but by the decrees of
+the emperors, of the Senate, and of time. Of the Christian hierarchy,
+the bishops of Rome were commonly the most prudent and least fanatic;
+nor can any positive charge be opposed to the meritorious act of saving
+and converting the majestic structure of the Pantheon.
+
+III. The value of any object that supplies the wants or pleasures of
+mankind is compounded of its substance and its form, of the materials
+and the manufacture. Its price must depend on the number of persons by
+whom it may be acquired and used; on the extent of the market; and
+consequently on the ease or difficulty of remote exportation according
+to the nature of the commodity, its local situation, and the temporary
+circumstances of the world. The Barbarian conquerors of Rome usurped in
+a moment the toil and treasure of successive ages; but except the
+luxuries of immediate consumption, they must view without desire all
+that could not be removed from the city in the Gothic wagons or the
+fleet of the Vandals. Gold and silver were the first objects of their
+avarice; as in every country, and in the smallest compass, they
+represent the most ample command of the industry and possessions of
+mankind. A vase or a statue of those precious metals might tempt the
+vanity of some Barbarian chief; but the grosser multitude, regardless of
+the form, was tenacious only of the substance; and the melted ingots
+might be readily divided and stamped into the current coin of the
+empire. The less active or less fortunate robbers were reduced to the
+baser plunder of brass, lead, iron, and copper: whatever had escaped the
+Goths and Vandals was pillaged by the Greek tyrants; and the Emperor
+Constans in his rapacious visit stripped the bronze tiles from the roof
+of the Pantheon. The edifices of Rome might be considered as a vast and
+various mine: the first labor of extracting the materials was already
+performed; the metals were purified and cast; the marbles were hewn and
+polished; and after foreign and domestic rapine had been satiated, the
+remains of the city, could a purchaser have been found, were still
+venal. The monuments of antiquity had been left naked of their precious
+ornaments; but the Romans would demolish with their own hands the arches
+and walls, if the hope of profit could surpass the cost of the labor and
+exportation. If Charlemagne had fixed in Italy the seat of the Western
+Empire, his genius would have aspired to restore, rather than to
+violate, the works of the Cæsars: but policy confined the French monarch
+to the forests of Germany; his taste could be gratified only by
+destruction; and the new palace of Aix-la-Chapelle was decorated with
+the marbles of Ravenna and Rome. Five hundred years after Charlemagne, a
+king of Sicily, Robert,--the wisest and most liberal sovereign of the
+age,--was supplied with the same materials by the easy navigation of the
+Tiber and the sea; and Petrarch sighs an indignant complaint that the
+ancient capital of the world should adorn from her own bowels the
+slothful luxury of Naples. But these examples of plunder or purchase
+were rare in the darker ages; and the Romans, alone and unenvied, might
+have applied to their private or public use the remaining structures of
+antiquity, if in their present form and situation they had not been
+useless in a great measure to the city and its inhabitants. The walls
+still described the old circumference, but the city had descended from
+the seven hills into the Campus Martius; and some of the noblest
+monuments which had braved the injuries of time were left in a desert,
+far remote from the habitations of mankind. The palaces of the senators
+were no longer adapted to the manners or fortunes of their indigent
+successors: the use of baths and porticos was forgotten; in the sixth
+century the games of the theatre, amphitheatre, and circus had been
+interrupted; some temples were devoted to the prevailing worship, but
+the Christian churches preferred the holy figure of the cross; and
+fashion, or reason, had distributed after a peculiar model the cells and
+offices of the cloister. Under the ecclesiastical reign, the number of
+these pious foundations was enormously multiplied; and the city was
+crowded with forty monasteries of men, twenty of women, and sixty
+chapters and colleges of canons and priests, who aggravated instead of
+relieving the depopulation of the tenth century. But if the forms of
+ancient architecture were disregarded by a people insensible of their
+use and beauty, the plentiful materials were applied to every call of
+necessity or superstition; till the fairest columns of the Ionic and
+Corinthian orders, the richest marbles of Paros and Numidia, were
+degraded, perhaps to the support of a convent or a stable. The daily
+havoc which is perpetrated by the Turks in the cities of Greece and Asia
+may afford a melancholy example; and in the gradual destruction of the
+monuments of Rome, Sixtus the Fifth may alone be excused for employing
+the stones of the Septizonium in the glorious edifice of St. Peter's.
+A fragment, a ruin, howsoever mangled or profaned, may be viewed with
+pleasure and regret; but the greater part of the marble was deprived of
+substance, as well as of place and proportion: it was burnt to lime for
+the purpose of cement. Since the arrival of Poggius, the temple of
+Concord and many capital structures had vanished from his eyes; and
+an epigram of the same age expresses a just and pious fear that the
+continuance of this practice would finally annihilate all the monuments
+of antiquity. The smallness of their numbers was the sole check on the
+demands and depredations of the Romans. The imagination of Petrarch
+might create the presence of a mighty people; and I hesitate to believe
+that even in the fourteenth century they could be reduced to a
+contemptible list of thirty-three thousand inhabitants. From that period
+to the reign of Leo the Tenth, if they multiplied to the amount of
+eighty-five thousand, the increase of citizens was in some degree
+pernicious to the ancient city.
+
+IV. I have reserved for the last, the most potent and forcible cause of
+destruction, the domestic hostilities of the Romans themselves. Under
+the dominion of the Greek and French emperors, the peace of the city was
+disturbed by accidental though frequent seditions: it is from the
+decline of the latter, from the beginning of the tenth century, that we
+may date the licentiousness of private war, which violated with impunity
+the laws of the Code and the gospel, without respecting the majesty of
+the absent sovereign or the presence and person of the vicar of Christ.
+In a dark period of five hundred years, Rome was perpetually afflicted
+by the sanguinary quarrels of the nobles and the people, the Guelphs and
+Ghibelines, the Colonna and Ursini; and if much has escaped the
+knowledge, and much is unworthy of the notice, of history, I have
+exposed in the two preceding chapters the causes and effects of the
+public disorders. At such a time, when every quarrel was decided by the
+sword and none could trust their lives or properties to the impotence of
+law, the powerful citizens were armed for safety, or offense, against
+the domestic enemies whom they feared or hated. Except Venice alone, the
+same dangers and designs were common to all the free republics of Italy;
+and the nobles usurped the prerogative of fortifying their houses and
+erecting strong towers that were capable of resisting a sudden attack.
+The cities were filled with these hostile edifices; and the example of
+Lucca, which contained three hundred towers, her law which confined
+their height to the measure of fourscore feet, may be extended with
+suitable latitude to the more opulent and populous States. The first
+step of the senator Brancaleone in the establishment of peace and
+justice, was to demolish (as we have already seen) one hundred and forty
+of the towers of Rome; and in the last days of anarchy and discord, as
+late as the reign of Martin the Fifth, forty-four still stood in one of
+the thirteen or fourteen regions of the city. To this mischievous
+purpose the remains of antiquity were most readily adapted: the temples
+and arches afforded a broad and solid basis for the new structures of
+brick and stone; and we can name the modern turrets that were raised on
+the triumphal monuments of Julius Cæsar, Titus, and the Antonines. With
+some slight alterations, a theatre, an amphitheatre, a mausoleum, was
+transformed into a strong and spacious citadel. I need not repeat that
+the mole of Adrian has assumed the title and form of the castle of St.
+Angelo; the Septizonium of Severus was capable of standing against a
+royal army; the sepulchre of Metella has sunk under its outworks; the
+theatres of Pompey and Marcellus were occupied by the Savelli and Ursini
+families; and the rough fortress has been gradually softened to the
+splendor and elegance of an Italian palace. Even the churches were
+encompassed with arms and bulwarks, and the military engines on the roof
+of St. Peter's were the terror of the Vatican and the scandal of the
+Christian world. Whatever is fortified will be attacked; and whatever is
+attacked may be destroyed. Could the Romans have wrested from the popes
+the castle of St. Angelo, they had resolved by a public decree to
+annihilate that monument of servitude. Every building of defense was
+exposed to a siege; and in every siege the arts and engines of
+destruction were laboriously employed. After the death of Nicholas the
+Fourth, Rome, without a sovereign or a senate, was abandoned six months
+to the fury of civil war. "The houses," says a cardinal and poet of the
+times, "were crushed by the weight and velocity of enormous stones; the
+walls were perforated by the strokes of the battering-ram; the towers
+were involved in fire and smoke; and the assailants were stimulated by
+rapine and revenge." The work was consummated by the tyranny of the
+laws; and the factions of Italy alternately exercised a blind and
+thoughtless vengeance on their adversaries, whose houses and castles
+they razed to the ground. In comparing the _days_ of foreign, with the
+_ages_ of domestic hostility, we must pronounce that the latter have
+been far more ruinous to the city; and our opinion is confirmed by the
+evidence of Petrarch. "Behold," says the laureate, "the relics of Rome,
+the image of her pristine greatness! neither time nor the Barbarian can
+boast the merit of this stupendous destruction: it was perpetrated by
+her own citizens, by the most illustrious of her sons; and your
+ancestors [he writes to a noble Annibaldi] have done with battering-ram
+what the Punic hero could not accomplish with the sword." The influence
+of the two last principles of decay must in some degree be multiplied by
+each other, since the houses and towers which were subverted by civil
+war required a new and perpetual supply from the monuments of antiquity.
+
+These general observations may be separately applied to the amphitheatre
+of Titus, which has obtained the name of the Coliseum, either from its
+magnitude or from Nero's colossal statue; an edifice, had it been left
+to time and nature, which might perhaps have claimed an eternal
+duration. The curious antiquaries who have computed the numbers and
+seats are disposed to believe that above the upper row of stone steps
+the amphitheatre was encircled and elevated with several stages of
+wooden galleries, which were repeatedly consumed by fire, and restored
+by the emperors. Whatever was precious, or portable, or profane, the
+statues of gods and heroes, and the costly ornaments of sculpture which
+were cast in brass or overspread with leaves of silver and gold, became
+the first prey of conquest or fanaticism, of the avarice of the
+Barbarians or the Christians. In the massy stones of the Coliseum, many
+holes are discerned; and the two most probable conjectures represent the
+various accidents of its decay. These stones were connected by solid
+links of brass or iron, nor had the eye of rapine overlooked the value
+of the baser metals; the vacant space was converted into a fair or
+market; the artisans of the Coliseum are mentioned in an ancient survey;
+and the chasms were perforated or enlarged to receive the poles that
+supported the shops or tents of the mechanic trades. Reduced to its
+naked majesty, the Flavian amphitheatre was contemplated with awe and
+admiration by the pilgrims of the North; and their rude enthusiasm broke
+forth in a sublime proverbial expression, which is recorded in the
+eighth century, in the fragments of the venerable Bede: "As long as the
+Coliseum stands, Rome shall stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will
+fall; when Rome falls, the world will fall." In the modern system of war
+a situation commanded by the three hills would not be chosen for a
+fortress: but the strength of the walls and arches could resist the
+engines of assault; a numerous garrison might be lodged in the
+inclosure; and while one faction occupied the Vatican and the Capitol,
+the other was intrenched in the Lateran and the Coliseum.
+
+The abolition at Rome of the ancient games must be understood with some
+latitude; and the carnival sports of the Testacean Mount and the Circus
+Agonalis were regulated by the law or custom of the city. The senator
+presided with dignity and pomp to adjudge and distribute the prizes, the
+gold ring, or the _pallium_, as it was styled, of cloth or silk. A
+tribute on the Jews supplied the annual expense; and the races on foot,
+on horseback, or in chariots, were ennobled by a tilt and tournament of
+seventy-two of the Roman youth. In the year 1332 a bull-feast, after the
+fashion of the Moors and Spaniards, was celebrated in the Coliseum
+itself; and the living manners are painted in a diary of the times. A
+convenient order of benches was restored, and a general proclamation as
+far as Rimini and Ravenna invited the nobles to exercise their skill and
+courage in this perilous adventure. The Roman ladies were marshaled in
+three squadrons and seated in three balconies, which on this day, the
+third of September, were lined with scarlet cloth. The fair Jacova di
+Rovere led the matrons from beyond the Tiber, a pure and native race who
+still represent the features and character of antiquity. The remainder
+of the city was divided as usual between the Colonna and Ursini: the two
+factions were proud of the number and beauty of their female bands: the
+charms of Savella Ursini are mentioned with praise, and the Colonna
+regretted the absence of the youngest of their house, who had sprained
+her ankle in the garden of Nero's tower. The lots of the champions were
+drawn by an old and respectable citizen; and they descended into the
+arena, or pit, to encounter the wild bulls, on foot as it should seem,
+with a single spear. Amidst the crowd, our annalist has selected the
+names, colors, and devices of twenty of the most conspicuous knights.
+Several of the names are the most illustrious of Rome and the
+ecclesiastical State: Malatesta, Polenta, Della Valle, Cafarello,
+Savelli, Capoccio, Conti, Annibaldi, Altieri, Corsi: the colors were
+adapted to their taste and situation: the devices are expressive of
+hope or despair, and breathe the spirit of gallantry and arms. "I am
+alone, like the youngest of the Horatii," the confidence of an intrepid
+stranger; "I live disconsolate," a weeping widower; "I burn under the
+ashes," a discreet lover; "I adore Lavinia, or Lucretia," the ambiguous
+declaration of a modern passion; "My faith is as pure," the motto of a
+white livery; "Who is stronger than myself?" of a lion's hide; "If I am
+drowned in blood, what a pleasant death!" the wish of ferocious courage.
+The pride or prudence of the Ursini restrained them from the field,
+which was occupied by three of their hereditary rivals, whose
+inscriptions denoted the lofty greatness of the Colonna name: "Though
+sad, I am strong;" "Strong as I am great;" "If I fall," addressing
+himself to the spectators, "you fall with me"--intimating (says the
+contemporary writer) that while the other families were the subjects of
+the Vatican, they alone were the supporters of the Capitol. The combats
+of the amphitheatre were dangerous and bloody. Every champion
+successively encountered a wild bull; and the victory may be ascribed to
+the quadrupeds, since no more than eleven were left on the field, with
+the loss of nine wounded and eighteen killed on the side of their
+adversaries. Some of the noblest families might mourn; but the pomp of
+the funerals in the churches of St. John Lateran and Sta. Maria Maggiore
+afforded a second holiday to the people. Doubtless it was not in such
+conflicts that the blood of the Romans should have been shed: yet in
+blaming their rashness we are compelled to applaud their gallantry; and
+the noble volunteers who display their magnificence and risk their lives
+under the balconies of the fair, excite a more generous sympathy than
+the thousands of captives and malefactors who were reluctantly dragged
+to the scene of slaughter.
+
+This use of the amphitheatre was a rare, perhaps a singular, festival:
+the demand for the materials was a daily and continual want which the
+citizens could gratify without restraint or remorse. In the fourteenth
+century a scandalous act of concord secured to both factions the
+privilege of extracting stones from the free and common quarry of the
+Coliseum; and Poggius laments that the greater part of these stones had
+been burnt to lime by the folly of the Romans. To check this abuse, and
+to prevent the nocturnal crimes that might be perpetrated in the vast
+and gloomy recess, Eugenius the Fourth surrounded it with a wall; and by
+a charter long extant, granted both the ground and edifice to the monks
+of an adjacent convent. After his death the wall was overthrown in a
+tumult of the people; and had they themselves respected the noblest
+monument of their fathers, they might have justified the resolve that it
+should never be degraded to private property. The inside was damaged;
+but in the middle of the sixteenth century, an era of taste and
+learning, the exterior circumference of one thousand six hundred and
+twelve feet was still entire and inviolate; a triple elevation of
+fourscore arches which rose to the height of one hundred and eight feet.
+Of the present ruin, the nephews of Paul the Third are the guilty
+agents; and every traveler who views the Farnese palace may curse the
+sacrilege and luxury of these upstart princes. A similar reproach is
+applied to the Barberini; and the repetition of injury might be dreaded
+from every reign, till the Coliseum was placed under the safeguard of
+religion by the most liberal of the pontiffs, Benedict the Fourteenth,
+who consecrated a spot which persecution and fable had stained with the
+blood of so many Christian martyrs.
+
+When Petrarch first gratified his eyes with a view of those monuments,
+whose scattered fragments so far surpass the most eloquent descriptions,
+he was astonished at the supine indifference of the Romans themselves;
+he was humbled rather than elated by the discovery that, except his
+friend Rienzi and one of the Colonna, a stranger of the Rhône was more
+conversant with these antiquities than the nobles and natives of the
+metropolis. The ignorance and credulity of the Romans are elaborately
+displayed in the old survey of the city, which was composed about the
+beginning of the thirteenth century; and without dwelling on the
+manifold errors of name and place, the legend of the Capitol may provoke
+a smile of contempt and indignation. "The Capitol," says the anonymous
+writer, "is so named as being the head of the world, where the consuls
+and senators formerly resided for the government of the city and the
+globe. The strong and lofty walls were covered with glass and gold, and
+crowned with a roof of the richest and most curious carving. Below the
+citadel stood a palace, of gold for the greatest part, decorated with
+precious stones, and whose value might be esteemed at one-third of the
+world itself. The statues of all the provinces were arranged in order,
+each with a small bell suspended from its neck; and such was the
+contrivance of art magic, that if the province rebelled against Rome the
+statue turned round to that quarter of the heavens, the bell rang, the
+prophet of the Capitol reported the prodigy, and the Senate was
+admonished of the impending danger." A second example, of less
+importance though of equal absurdity, may be drawn from the two marble
+horses, led by two naked youths, which have since been transported from
+the baths of Constantine to the Quirinal Hill. The groundless
+application of the names of Phidias and Praxiteles may perhaps be
+excused: but these Grecian sculptors should not have been removed above
+four hundred years from the age of Pericles to that of Tiberius; they
+should not have been transformed into two philosophers or magicians,
+whose nakedness was the symbol of truth or knowledge, who revealed to
+the Emperor his most secret actions, and after refusing all pecuniary
+recompense, solicited the honor of leaving this eternal monument of
+themselves. Thus, awake to the power of magic, the Romans were
+insensible to the beauties of art: no more than five statues were
+visible to the eyes of Poggius; and of the multitudes which chance or
+design had buried under the ruins, the resurrection was fortunately
+delayed till a safer and more enlightened age. The Nile, which now
+adorns the Vatican, had been explored by some laborers in digging a
+vineyard near the temple, or convent, of the Minerva: but the impatient
+proprietor, who was tormented by some visits of curiosity, restored the
+unprofitable marble to its former grave. The discovery of the statue of
+Pompey, ten feet in length, was the occasion of a lawsuit. It had been
+found under a partition wall: the equitable judge had pronounced that
+the head should be separated from the body to satisfy the claims of the
+contiguous owners; and the sentence would have been executed if the
+intercession of a cardinal and the liberality of a pope had not rescued
+the Roman hero from the hands of his barbarous countrymen.
+
+But the clouds of barbarism were gradually dispelled, and the peaceful
+authority of Martin the Fifth and his successors restored the ornaments
+of the city as well as the order of the ecclesiastical State. The
+improvements of Rome since the fifteenth century have not been the
+spontaneous produce of freedom and industry. The first and most natural
+root of a great city is the labor and populousness of the adjacent
+country, which supplies the materials of subsistence, of manufactures,
+and of foreign trade. But the greater part of the Campagna of Rome is
+reduced to a dreary and desolate wilderness; the overgrown estates of
+the princes and the clergy are cultivated by the lazy hands of indigent
+and hopeless vassals; and the scanty harvests are confined or exported
+for the benefit of a monopoly. A second and more artificial cause of the
+growth of a metropolis is the residence of a monarch, the expense of a
+luxurious court, and the tributes of dependent provinces. Those
+provinces and tributes had been lost in the fall of the Empire: and if
+some streams of the silver of Peru and the gold of Brazil have been
+attracted by the Vatican, the revenues of the cardinals, the fees of
+office, the oblations of pilgrims and clients, and the remnant of
+ecclesiastical taxes, afford a poor and precarious supply, which
+maintains however the idleness of the court and city. The population of
+Rome, far below the measure of the great capitals of Europe, does not
+exceed one hundred and seventy thousand inhabitants; and within the
+spacious inclosure of the walls the largest portion of the seven hills
+is overspread with vineyards and ruins. The beauty and splendor of the
+modern city may be ascribed to the abuses of the government, to the
+influence of superstition. Each reign (the exceptions are rare) has been
+marked by the rapid elevation of a new family, enriched by the childless
+pontiff at the expense of the Church and country. The palaces of these
+fortunate nephews are the most costly monuments of elegance and
+servitude: the perfect arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture
+have been prostituted in their service; and their galleries and gardens
+are decorated with the most precious works of antiquity which taste or
+vanity has prompted them to collect. The ecclesiastical revenues were
+more decently employed by the popes themselves in the pomp of the
+Catholic worship; but it is superfluous to enumerate their pious
+foundations of altars, chapels, and churches, since these lesser stars
+are eclipsed by the sun of the Vatican, by the dome of St. Peter, the
+most glorious structure that ever has been applied to the use of
+religion. The fame of Julius the Second, Leo the Tenth, and Sixtus the
+Fifth is accompanied by the superior merit of Bramante and Fontana, of
+Raphael and Michael Angelo; and the same munificence which had been
+displayed in palaces and temples was directed with equal zeal to revive
+and emulate the labors of antiquity. Prostrate obelisks were raised from
+the ground and erected in the most conspicuous places; of the eleven
+aqueducts of the Cæsars and consuls, three were restored; the artificial
+rivers were conducted over a long series of old, or of new arches, to
+discharge into marble basins a flood of salubrious and refreshing
+waters: and the spectator, impatient to ascend the steps of St. Peter's,
+is detained by a column of Egyptian granite, which rises between two
+lofty and perpetual fountains to the height of one hundred and twenty
+feet. The map, the description, the monuments of ancient Rome have been
+elucidated by the diligence of the antiquarian and the student; and the
+footsteps of heroes, the relics, not of superstition but of empire, are
+devoutly visited by a new race of pilgrims from the remote and once
+savage countries of the North.
+
+             All the foregoing selections are made from 'The History
+             of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT
+
+(1836-)
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM S. GILBERT]
+
+
+When, after appearing from time to time in the London Fun, the 'Bab
+Ballads' were published in book form in 1870, everybody, young and old,
+found them provocative of hearty laughter. "Much sound and little
+sense," was the title-page motto. Perhaps the fact that Mr. Gilbert's
+readers did not know why they laughed was one great charm of the
+ballads. The humor was felt, not analyzed, and involved no mental
+fatigue. If there was "little sense," no continuity of meaning, there
+was usually significant suggestion; and social foibles were touched off
+with good-natured irony in a delightfully inconsequent fashion. The
+"much sound" was a spirited lyric swing which clung to the memory,
+a rich rhythm, and a rollicking spontaneity, which disregarded
+considerations of grammar and pronunciation in a way that only added
+to the fun.
+
+The 'Bab Ballads,' and 'More Bab Ballads' which appeared in 1872, have
+become classic. In many of them may be found the germs of the librettos
+which have made Gilbert famous in comic opera. 'Pinafore,' 'The Mikado,'
+'Patience,' and many others of a long and well-known list written to Sir
+Arthur Sullivan's music, have furnished the public with many popular
+songs. A volume of dainty lyrics has been made up from them; and,
+entitled 'Songs of a Savoyard' (from the Savoy Theatre of London, where
+the operas were first represented), was published in 1890.
+
+Mr. Gilbert was born in London November 18th, 1836, and educated in that
+city; after his graduation from the University of London he studied law,
+and was called to the bar of the Inner Temple in 1863. Five years later
+he became a captain of the Royal Aberdeenshire Highlanders. The success
+of his first play, 'Dulcamara,' in 1866, led him to abandon the law, and
+he has since devoted himself to authorship.
+
+
+
+CAPTAIN REECE
+
+
+  Of all the ships upon the blue,
+  No ship contained a better crew
+  Than that of worthy Captain Reece,
+  Commanding of The Mantlepiece.
+
+  He was adored by all his men,
+  For worthy Captain Reece, R.N.,
+  Did all that lay within him to
+  Promote the comfort of his crew.
+
+  If ever they were dull or sad,
+  Their captain danced to them like mad,
+  Or told, to make the time pass by,
+  Droll legends of his infancy.
+
+  A feather-bed had every man,
+  Warm slippers and hot-water can,
+  Brown Windsor from the captain's store;
+  A valet, too, to every four.
+
+  Did they with thirst in summer burn,
+  Lo! seltzogenes at every turn;
+  And on all very sultry days
+  Cream ices handed round on trays.
+
+  Then, currant wine and ginger pops
+  Stood handily on all the "tops";
+  And also, with amusement rife,
+  A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."
+
+  New volumes came across the sea
+  From Mr. Mudie's libraree;
+  The Times and Saturday Review
+  Beguiled the leisure of the crew.
+
+  Kind-hearted Captain Reece, R.N.,
+  Was quite devoted to his men;
+  In point of fact, good Captain Reece
+  Beatified The Mantelpiece.
+
+  One summer eve, at half-past ten,
+  He said (addressing all his men):--
+  "Come, tell me, please, what I can do
+  To please and gratify my crew.
+
+  "By any reasonable plan
+  I'll make you happy if I can,--
+  My own convenience count as _nil:_
+  It is my duty, and I will."
+
+  Then up and answered William Lee
+  (The kindly captain's coxwain he,
+  A nervous, shy, low-spoken man);
+  He cleared his throat, and thus began:--
+
+  "You have a daughter, Captain Reece,
+  Ten female cousins and a niece,
+  A ma, if what I'm told is true,
+  Six sisters, and an aunt or two.
+
+  "Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,
+  More friendly-like we all should be,
+  If you united of 'em to
+  Unmarried members of the crew.
+
+  "If you'd ameliorate our life,
+  Let each select from them a wife;
+  And as for nervous me, old pal,
+  Give me your own enchanting gal!"
+
+  Good Captain Reece, that worthy man,
+  Debated on his coxwain's plan:--
+  "I quite agree," he said, "O Bill:
+  It is my duty, and I will.
+
+  "My daughter, that enchanting gurl,
+  Has just been promised to an Earl,
+  And all my other familee
+  To peers of various degree.
+
+  "But what are dukes and viscounts to
+  The happiness of all my crew?
+  The word I gave you I'll fulfill;
+  It is my duty, and I will.
+
+  "As you desire it shall befall;
+  I'll settle thousands on you all,
+  And I shall be, despite my hoard,
+  The only bachelor on board."
+
+  The boatswain of the Mantelpiece,
+  He blushed and spoke to Captain Reece:--
+  "I beg your Honor's leave," he said:--
+  "If you would wish to go and wed,
+
+  "I have a widowed mother who
+  Would be the very thing for you--
+  She long has loved you from afar:
+  She washes for you, Captain R."
+
+  The captain saw the dame that day--
+  Addressed her in his playful way:--
+  "And did it want a wedding ring?
+  It was a tempting ickle sing!
+
+  "Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,
+  We'll all be married this day week
+  At yonder church upon the hill;
+  It is my duty, and I will!"
+
+  The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,
+  And widowed ma of Captain Reece,
+  Attended there as they were bid:
+  It was their duty, and they did.
+
+
+
+THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL
+
+
+  'Twas on the shores that round our coast
+    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:--
+
+  "Oh, 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
+    However you can 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."
+
+  And he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
+    Is a trick all seamen larn,
+  And having got rid of a thumping quid,
+    He spun his 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 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 the 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.
+
+  "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 sich.
+
+  "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
+    And the cook he worshiped 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.
+
+  "Says 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 a 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 sit and croak, and a single joke
+    I have--which is to say:--
+
+  "'Oh, 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!'"
+
+
+
+THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO
+
+
+  From east and south the holy clan
+  Of bishops gathered to a man;
+  To Synod, called Pan-Anglican,
+    In flocking crowds they came.
+  Among them was a bishop who
+  Had lately been appointed to
+  The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo,
+    And Peter was his name.
+
+  His people--twenty-three in sum--
+  They played the eloquent tum-tum,
+  And lived on scalps served up in rum--
+    The only sauce they knew.
+  When first good Bishop Peter came
+  (For Peter was that bishop's name),
+  To humor them, he did the same
+    As they of Rum-ti-Foo.
+
+  His flock, I've often heard him tell,
+  (His name was Peter) loved him well,
+  And summoned by the sound of bell,
+    In crowds together came.
+  "Oh, massa, why you go away?
+  Oh, Massa Peter, please to stay."
+  (They called him Peter, people say,
+    Because it was his name.)
+
+  He told them all good boys to be,
+  And sailed away across the sea;
+  At London Bridge that bishop he
+    Arrived one Tuesday night;
+  And as that night he homeward strode
+  To his Pan-Anglican abode,
+  He passed along the Borough Road,
+    And saw a gruesome sight.
+
+  He saw a crowd assembled round
+  A person dancing on the ground,
+  Who straight began to leap and bound
+    With all his might and main.
+  To see that dancing man he stopped,
+  Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped,
+  Then down incontinently dropped,
+    And then sprang up again.
+
+  The bishop chuckled at the sight.
+  "This style of dancing would delight
+  A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite:
+    I'll learn it if I can,
+  To please the tribe when I get back."
+  He begged the man to teach his knack.
+  "Right reverend sir, in half a crack!"
+    Replied that dancing man.
+
+  The dancing man he worked away,
+  And taught the bishop every day;
+  The dancer skipped like any fay--
+    Good Peter did the same.
+  The bishop buckled to his task,
+  With _battements_ and _pas de basque_.
+  (I'll tell you, if you care to ask,
+    That Peter was his name.)
+
+  "Come, walk like this," the dancer said;
+  "Stick out your toes--stick in your head,
+  Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread--
+    Your fingers thus extend;
+  The attitude's considered quaint."
+  The weary bishop, feeling faint,
+  Replied, "I do not say it ain't,
+    But 'Time!' my Christian friend!"
+
+  "We now proceed to something new:
+  Dance as the Paynes and Lauris do,
+  Like this--one, two--one, two--one, two."
+    The bishop, never proud,
+  But in an overwhelming heat
+  (His name was Peter, I repeat)
+  Performed the Payne and Lauri feat,
+    And puffed his thanks aloud.
+
+  Another game the dancer planned:
+  "Just take your ankle in your hand,
+  And try, my lord, if you can stand--
+    Your body stiff and stark.
+  If when revisiting your see
+  You learnt to hop on shore, like me,
+  The novelty would striking be,
+    And must attract remark."
+
+  "No," said the worthy bishop, "no;
+  That is a length to which, I trow,
+  Colonial bishops cannot go.
+    You may express surprise
+  At finding bishops deal in pride--
+  But if that trick I ever tried,
+  I should appear undignified
+    In Rum-ti-Foozle's eyes.
+
+  "The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo
+  Are well-conducted persons, who
+  Approve a joke as much as you,
+    And laugh at it as such;
+  But if they saw their bishop land,
+  His leg supported in his hand,
+  The joke they wouldn't understand--
+    'Twould pain them very much!"
+
+
+
+GENTLE ALICE BROWN
+
+
+  It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown;
+  Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;
+  Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing:
+  But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.
+
+  As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one day,
+  A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way;
+  She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true,
+  That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!"
+
+  And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen;
+  She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten;
+  A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road
+  (The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode).
+
+  But Alice was a pious girl, who knew it wasn't wise
+  To look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes;
+  So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed,
+  The priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed.
+
+  "O holy father," Alice said, "'twould grieve you, would it not,
+  To discover that I was a most disreputable lot?
+  Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy one!"
+  The padre said, "Whatever have you been and gone and done?"
+
+  "I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad,
+  I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad,
+  I've planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque,
+  And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!"
+
+  The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear,
+  And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear:
+  It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece;
+  But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece.
+
+  "Girls will be girls--you're very young, and flighty in your mind;
+  Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find;
+  We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks--
+  Let's see--five crimes at half-a-crown--exactly twelve-and-six."
+
+  "O father," little Alice cried, "your kindness makes me weep,
+  You do these little things for me so singularly cheap;
+  Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget;
+  But oh! there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet!
+
+  "A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes,
+  I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a-catching flies;
+  He passes by it every day as certain as can be--
+  I blush to say I've winked at him and he has winked at me!"
+
+  "For shame!" said Father Paul, "my erring daughter! On my word,
+  This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard.
+  Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand
+  To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!
+
+  "This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so!
+  They are the most remunerative customers I know;
+  For many, many years they've kept starvation from my doors:
+  I never knew so criminal a family as yours!
+
+  "The common country folk in this insipid neighborhood
+  Have nothing to confess, they're so ridiculously good;
+  And if you marry any one respectable at all,
+  Why, you'll reform, and what will then become of Father Paul?"
+
+  The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown,
+  And started off in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown--
+  To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit,
+  Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it.
+
+  Good Robber Brown he muffled up his anger pretty well;
+  He said, "I have a notion, and that notion I will tell:
+  I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,
+  And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits.
+
+  "I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two:
+  Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do--
+  A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall
+  When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small."
+
+  He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square;
+  He watched his opportunity, and seized him unaware;
+  He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head,
+  And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went to bed.
+
+  And pretty little Alice grew more settled in her mind;
+  She never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind;
+  Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her pretty hand
+  On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band.
+
+
+
+THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS
+
+
+  I sing a legend of the sea,
+  So hard-a-port upon your lee!
+    A ship on starboard tack!
+  She's bound upon a private cruise--
+  (This is the kind of spice I use
+    To give a salt-sea smack).
+
+  Behold, on every afternoon
+  (Save in a gale or strong monsoon)
+    Great Captain Capel Cleggs
+  (Great morally, though rather short)
+  Sat at an open weather-port
+    And aired his shapely legs.
+
+  And mermaids hung around in flocks,
+  On cable chains and distant rocks,
+    To gaze upon those limbs;
+  For legs like those, of flesh and bone,
+  Are things "not generally known"
+    To any merman timbs.
+
+  But mermen didn't seem to care
+  Much time (as far as I'm aware)
+    With Cleggs's legs to spend;
+  Though mermaids swam around all day
+  And gazed, exclaiming, "_That's_ the way
+    A gentleman should end!
+
+  "A pair of legs with well-cut knees,
+  And calves and ankles such as these
+    Which we in rapture hail,
+  Are far more eloquent, it's clear
+  (When clothed in silk and kerseymere),
+    Than any nasty tail."
+
+  And Cleggs--a worthy, kind old boy--
+  Rejoiced to add to others' joy,
+    And when the day was dry,
+  Because it pleased the lookers-on,
+  He sat from morn till night--though con-
+    Stitutionally shy.
+
+  At first the mermen laughed, "Pooh! pooh!"
+  But finally they jealous grew,
+    And sounded loud recalls;
+  But vainly. So these fishy males
+  Declared they too would clothe their tails
+    In silken hose and smalls.
+
+  They set to work, these watermen,
+  And made their nether robes--but when
+    They drew with dainty touch
+  The kerseymere upon their tails,
+  They found it scraped against their scales,
+    And hurt them very much.
+
+  The silk, besides, with which they chose
+  To deck their tails by way of hose
+    (They never thought of shoon)
+  For such a use was much too thin,--
+  It tore against the caudal fin,
+    And "went in ladders" soon.
+
+  So they designed another plan:
+  They sent their most seductive man,
+    This note to him to show:--
+  "Our Monarch sends to Captain Cleggs
+  His humble compliments, and begs
+    He'll join him down below;
+
+  "We've pleasant homes below the sea--
+  Besides, if Captain Cleggs should be
+    (As our advices say)
+  A judge of mermaids, he will find
+  Our lady fish of every kind
+    Inspection will repay."
+
+  Good Capel sent a kind reply,
+  For Capel thought he could descry
+    An admirable plan
+  To study all their ways and laws--
+  (But not their lady fish, because
+    He was a married man).
+
+  The merman sank--the captain too
+  Jumped overboard, and dropped from view
+    Like stone from catapult;
+  And when he reached the merman's lair,
+  He certainly was welcomed there,
+    But ah! with what result!
+
+  They didn't let him learn their law,
+  Or make a note of what he saw,
+    Or interesting mem.;
+  The lady fish he couldn't find,
+  But that, of course, he didn't mind--
+    He didn't come for them.
+
+  For though when Captain Capel sank,
+  The mermen drawn in double rank
+    Gave him a hearty hail,
+  Yet when secure of Captain Cleggs,
+  They cut off both his lovely legs,
+    And gave him _such_ a tail!
+
+  When Captain Cleggs returned aboard,
+  His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd,
+    To see him altered so.
+  The admiralty did insist
+  That he upon the half-pay list
+    Immediately should go.
+
+  In vain declared the poor old salt,
+  "It's my misfortune--not my fault,"
+    With tear and trembling lip--
+  In vain poor Capel begged and begged.
+  "A man must be completely legged
+    Who rules a British ship."
+
+  So spake the stern First Lord aloud,--
+  He was a wag, though very proud,--
+    And much rejoiced to say,
+  "You're only half a captain now--
+  And so, my worthy friend, I vow
+    You'll only get half-pay!"
+
+         All the above selections are made from 'Fifty Bab Ballads.'
+
+
+
+
+RICHARD WATSON GILDER
+
+(1844-)
+
+[Illustration: RICHARD W. GILDER]
+
+
+Richard Watson Gilder is the son of a clergyman, the Rev. William H.
+Gilder, who published two literary reviews in Philadelphia. He was born
+in Bordentown, New Jersey, February 8th, 1844, and with such ancestry
+and home influence came easily to journalism and literary work. He got
+his schooling in the Bellevue Seminary, which was founded by his father.
+As with so many young Americans of the time, the war came to interrupt
+his studies; and in 1863 he served in the "Emergency Corps," in the
+defense of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Mr. Gilder is one of the American
+writers who have successfully combined journalism and literature. He
+began by doing newspaper work, and then by a natural transition became
+in 1869 editor of Hours at Home, and shortly thereafter associate editor
+of Scribner's Magazine with Dr. J. G. Holland. This representative
+monthly was changed in name to The Century, and upon the death of Dr.
+Holland in 1881 Mr. Gilder became its editor-in-chief. His influence in
+this conspicuous position has been wholesome and helpful in the
+encouraging of literature, and in the discussion of current questions of
+importance through a popular medium which reaches great numbers of the
+American people. The Century under his direction has been receptive to
+young writers and artists of ability, and many since known to fame made
+their maiden appearance in its pages.
+
+In addition to his influence on the literary movement, Mr. Gilder has
+been active in philanthropic and political work. He has secured
+legislation for the improvement of tenements in cities; he has taken
+interest in the formation of public kindergartens; and given of his time
+and strength to further other reforms. His influence in New York City,
+too, has been a factor in developing the social aspects of literary and
+art life there. From Dickinson College he has received the degree of
+LL.D., and from Princeton that of L.H.D.
+
+Mr. Gilder's reputation as a writer is based upon his verse. Only very
+occasionally does he publish an essay, though thoughtful, strongly
+written editorials from his pen in his magazine are frequent. But it is
+his verse-writing that has given him his place--a distinct and honorable
+one--in American letters. The fine quality and promise of his work was
+recognized upon the publication of 'The New Day' in 1875, a first volume
+which was warmly received. It showed the influence of Italian studies,
+and contained lyric work of much imaginative beauty. The musicalness of
+it and the delicately ideal treatment of the love passion were
+noticeable characteristics. In his subsequent books--'The Celestial
+Passion,' 1887; 'Lyrics,' 1885 and 1887; 'Two Worlds, and Other Poems,'
+1891; 'The Great Remembrance, and Other Poems,' 1893: the contents of
+these being gathered finally into the one volume 'Five Books of Song,'
+1894--he has given further proof of his genuine lyric gift, his work in
+later years having a wider range of themes, a broadening vision and
+deepening purpose. He remains nevertheless essentially a lyrist, a maker
+of songs; a thorough artist who has seriousness, dignity, and charm. His
+is an earnest nature, sensitive alike to vital contemporaneous problems
+and to the honey-sweet voice of the Ideal.
+
+
+
+    [All the following citations from Mr. Gilder's poems are
+    copyrighted, and are reprinted here by special permission
+    of the author and his publishers.]
+
+
+
+TWO SONGS FROM 'THE NEW DAY'
+
+
+I
+
+  Not from the whole wide world I chose thee,
+  Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea!
+  The wide, wide world could not inclose thee--
+  For thou art the whole wide world to me.
+
+
+II
+
+  Years have flown since I knew thee first,
+  And I know thee as water is known of thirst;
+  Yet I knew thee of old at the first sweet sight,
+  And thou art strange to me, Love, to-night.
+
+
+
+"ROSE-DARK THE SOLEMN SUNSET"
+
+
+  Rose-dark the solemn sunset
+    That holds my thought of thee;
+  With one star in the heavens
+    And one star in the sea.
+
+  On high no lamp is lighted,
+    Nor where the long waves flow.
+  Save the one star of evening
+    And the shadow star below.
+
+  Light of my life, the darkness
+    Comes with the twilight dream;
+  Thou art the bright star shining,
+    And I but the shadowy gleam.
+
+
+
+NON SINE DOLORE
+
+
+        What, then, is Life,--what Death?
+            Thus the Answerer saith;
+      O faithless mortal, bend thy head and listen:
+
+          Down o'er the vibrant strings,
+  That thrill, and moan, and mourn, and glisten,
+          The Master draws his bow.
+  A voiceless pause: then upward, see, it springs,
+  Free as a bird with unimprisoned wings!
+          In twain the chord was cloven,
+            While, shaken with woe,
+  With breaks of instant joy all interwoven,
+      Piercing the heart with lyric knife,
+          On, on the ceaseless music sings,
+            Restless, intense, serene;--
+  Life is the downward stroke; the upward, Life;
+            Death but the pause between.
+
+  Then spake the Questioner: If 't were only this,
+          Ah, who could face the abyss
+  That plunges steep athwart each human breath?
+          If the new birth of Death
+  Meant only more of Life as mortals know it,
+  What priestly balm, what song of highest poet,
+    Could heal one sentient soul's immitigable pain?
+              All, all were vain!
+  If, having soared pure spirit at the last,
+  Free from the impertinence and warp of flesh
+  We find half joy, half pain, on every blast;
+    Are caught again in closer-woven mesh--
+          Ah! who would care to die
+  From out these fields and hills, and this familiar sky;
+  These firm, sure hands that compass us, this dear humanity?
+
+            Again the Answerer saith:--
+            O ye of little faith,
+        Shall then the spirit prove craven,
+      And Death's divine deliverance but give
+            A summer rest and haven?
+    By all most noble in us, by the light that streams
+            Into our waking dreams,
+      Ah, we who know what Life is, let us live!
+        Clearer and freer, who shall doubt?
+    Something of dust and darkness cast forever out;
+      But Life, still Life, that leads to higher Life,
+  Even though the highest be not free from immortal strife.
+
+      The highest! Soul of man, oh be thou bold,
+      And to the brink of thought draw near, behold!
+                Where, on the earth's green sod,
+      Where, where in all the universe of God,
+                Hath strife forever ceased?
+      When hath not some great orb flashed into space
+    The terror of its doom? When hath no human face
+                Turned earthward in despair,
+    For that some horrid sin had stamped its image there?
+
+      If at our passing Life be Life increased,
+      And we ourselves flame pure unfettered soul,
+      Like the Eternal Power that made the whole
+                And lives in all he made
+  From shore of matter to the unknown spirit shore;
+              If, sire to son, and tree to limb,
+      Cycle on countless cycle more and more
+              We grow to be like him;
+      If he lives on, serene and unafraid,
+      Through all his light, his love, his living thought,
+      One with the sufferer, be it soul or star;
+      If he escape not pain, what beings that are
+  Can e'er escape while Life leads on and up the unseen way and far?
+      If he escape not, by whom all was wrought,
+              Then shall not we,
+      Whate'er of godlike solace still may be,--
+  For in all worlds there is no Life without a pang, and can be naught.
+
+      No Life without a pang! It were not Life,
+              If ended were the strife--
+      Man were not man, nor God were truly God!
+                    See from the sod
+      The lark thrill skyward in an arrow of song:
+                Even so from pain and wrong
+      Upsprings the exultant spirit, wild and free.
+      He knows not all the joy of liberty
+      Who never yet was crushed 'neath heavy woe.
+                  He doth not know,
+            Nor can, the bliss of being brave
+    Who never hath faced death, nor with unquailing eye
+                Hath measured his own grave.
+        Courage, and pity, and divinest scorn--
+    Self-scorn, self-pity, and high courage of the soul;
+                The passion for the goal;
+        The strength to never yield though all be lost--
+                    All these are born
+        Of endless strife; this is the eternal cost
+        Of every lovely thought that through the portal
+        Of human minds doth pass with following light.
+              Blanch not, O trembling mortal!
+        But with extreme and terrible delight
+                     Know thou the truth,
+        Nor let thy heart be heavy with false ruth.
+
+        No passing burden is our earthly sorrow,
+        That shall depart in some mysterious morrow.
+        'Tis His one universe where'er we are--
+        One changeless law from sun to viewless star.
+        Were sorrow evil here, evil it were forever,
+    Beyond the scope and help of our most keen endeavor
+                    God doth not dote,
+        His everlasting purpose shall not fail.
+        Here where our ears are weary with the wail
+  And weeping of the sufferers; there where the Pleiads float--
+        Here, there, forever, pain most dread and dire
+    Doth bring the intensest bliss, the dearest and most sure.
+        'Tis not from Life aside, it doth endure
+        Deep in the secret heart of all existence.
+              It is the inward fire,
+    The heavenly urge, and the divine insistence.
+    Uplift thine eyes, O Questioner, from the sod!
+              It were no longer Life,
+              If ended were the strife;
+    Man were not man, God were not truly God.
+
+
+
+"HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS"
+
+
+I
+
+          If songs were perfume, color, wild desire;
+                      If poets' words were fire
+          That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins;
+    If with a bird-like thrill the moments throbbed to hours;
+                      If summer's rains
+      Turned drop by drop to shy, sweet, maiden flowers;
+      If God made flowers with light and music in them,
+              And saddened hearts could win them;
+              If loosened petals touched the ground
+                      With a caressing sound;
+                      If love's eyes uttered word
+        No listening lover e'er before had heard;
+        If silent thoughts spake with a bugle's voice;
+    If flame passed into song and cried, "Rejoice! Rejoice!"
+    If words could picture life's, hope's, heaven's eclipse
+    When the last kiss has fallen on dying eyes and lips;
+                      If all of mortal woe
+      Struck on one heart with breathless blow on blow;
+      If melody were tears, and tears were starry gleams
+      That shone in evening's amethystine dreams;
+    Ah yes, if notes were stars, each star a different hue,
+                      Trembling to earth in dew;
+            Or if the boreal pulsings, rose and white,
+            Made a majestic music in the night;
+            If all the orbs lost in the light of day
+    In the deep, silent blue began their harps to play;
+    And when in frightening skies the lightnings flashed
+                      And storm-clouds crashed,
+  If every stroke of light and sound were but excess of beauty;
+            If human syllables could e'er refashion
+                    That fierce electric passion;
+    If other art could match (as were the poet's duty)
+        The grieving, and the rapture, and the thunder
+                    Of that keen hour of wonder,--
+    That light as if of heaven, that blackness as of hell,--
+    How Paderewski plays then might I dare to tell.
+
+
+II
+
+      How Paderewski plays! And was it he
+      Or some disbodied spirit which had rushed
+      From silence into singing; and had crushed
+      Into one startled hour a life's felicity,
+  And highest bliss of knowledge--that all life, grief, wrong,
+      Turn at the last to beauty and to song!
+
+
+
+THE SONNET
+
+
+  What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
+    That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
+    A precious jewel carved most curiously;
+  It is a little picture painted well.
+  What is a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell
+    From a great poet's hidden ecstasy;
+    A two-edged sword, a star, a song--ah me!
+  Sometimes a heavy-tolling funeral bell.
+    This was the flame that shook with Dante's breath;
+      The solemn organ whereon Milton played,
+  And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls:
+    A sea this is--beware who ventureth!
+      For like a fiord the narrow floor is laid
+  Mid-ocean deep to the sheer mountain walls.
+
+
+
+AMERICA
+
+From 'The Great Remembrance'
+
+
+  Land that we love! Thou Future of the World!
+    Thou refuge of the noble heart oppressed!
+  Oh, never be thy shining image hurled
+    From its high place in the adoring breast
+  Of him who worships thee with jealous love!
+  Keep thou thy starry forehead as the dove
+    All white, and to the eternal Dawn inclined!
+    Thou art not for thyself, but for mankind,
+  And to despair of thee were to despair
+    Of man, of man's high destiny, of God!
+    Of thee should man despair, the journey trod
+  Upward, through unknown eons, stair on stair,
+    By this our race, with bleeding feet and slow,
+    Were but the pathway to a darker woe
+  Than yet was visioned by the heavy heart
+    Of prophet. To despair of thee! Ah no!
+  For thou thyself art Hope; Hope of the World thou art!
+
+
+
+ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+
+  This bronze doth keep the very form and mold
+    Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:
+    That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
+  That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
+  Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;
+    That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea
+    For storms to beat on; the lone agony
+  Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.
+  Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men
+    As might some prophet of the elder day--
+    Brooding above the tempest and the fray
+  With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.
+  A power was his beyond the touch of art
+  Or armèd strength--his pure and mighty heart.
+
+
+
+"CALL ME NOT DEAD"
+
+
+  Call me not dead when I, indeed, have gone
+    Into the company of the ever-living
+    High and most glorious poets! Let thanksgiving
+  Rather be made. Say:--"He at last hath won
+  Rest and release, converse supreme and wise,
+    Music and song and light of immortal faces;
+    To-day, perhaps, wandering in starry places,
+  He hath met Keats, and known him by his eyes.
+  To-morrow (who can say?) Shakespeare may pass,
+    And our lost friend just catch one syllable
+    Of that three-centuried wit that kept so well;
+  Or Milton; or Dante, looking on the grass
+    Thinking of Beatrice, and listening still
+    To chanted hymns that sound from the heavenly hill."
+
+
+
+AFTER-SONG
+
+From 'The New Day'
+
+
+  Through love to light! Oh, wonderful the way
+  That leads from darkness to the perfect day!
+  From darkness and from sorrow of the night
+  To morning that comes singing o'er the sea.
+  Through love to light! Through light, O God, to thee,
+  Who art the love of love, the eternal light of light!
+
+
+
+
+GIUSEPPE GIUSTI
+
+(1809-1850)
+
+[Illustration: GIUSEPPE GIUSTI]
+
+
+Giuseppe Giusti, an Italian satirical poet, was born of an influential
+family, May 12th, 1809, in the little village of Monsummano, which lies
+between Pistoja and Pescia, and was in every fibre of his nature a
+Tuscan. As a child he imbibed the healthful, sunny atmosphere of that
+Campagna, and grew up loving the world and his comrades, but with a
+dislike of study which convinced himself and his friends that he was
+born to no purpose. He was early destined to the bar, and began his law
+studies in Pistoja and Lucca, completing them a number of years later at
+Pisa, where he obtained his degree of doctor.
+
+In 1834 he went to Florence, under pretence of practicing with the
+advocate Capoquadri; but here as elsewhere he spent his time in the
+world of gayety, whose fascination and whose absurdity he seems to have
+felt with equal keenness. His dislike of study found its exception in
+his love of Dante, of whom he was a reverent student. He was himself
+continually versifying, and his early romantic lyrics are inspired by
+lofty thought. His penetrating humor, however, and his instinctive
+sarcasm, whose expression was never unkind, led him soon to abandon
+idealism and to distinguish himself in the field of satire, which has no
+purer representative than he. His compositions are short and terse, and
+are seldom blemished by personalities. He was wont to say that absurd
+persons did not merit even the fame of infamy. He leveled his wit
+against the lethargy and immoralities of the times, and revealed them
+clear-cut in the light of his own stern principles and patriotism.
+
+The admiration and confidence which he now began to receive from the
+public was to him a matter almost of consternation, wont as he was to
+consider himself a good-for-nothing. He confesses somewhat bashfully
+however that there was always within him, half afraid of itself, an
+instinct of power which led him to say in his heart, Who knows what I
+may be with time? His frail constitution and almost incessant physical
+suffering account for a natural indolence against which he constantly
+inveighs, but above which he was powerless to rise except at vehement
+intervals. No carelessness, however, marks his work. He was a tireless
+reviser, and possessed the rare power of cutting, polishing, and
+finishing his work with exquisite nicety, without robbing it of vigor.
+His writings exerted a distinct political and moral influence. His is
+not alone the voice of pitiless and mocking irony, but it is that of the
+humanitarian, who in overthrow and destruction sees only the first step
+toward the creation of something better. When war broke out he laid
+aside his pen, saying that this was no time for a poet to pull down, and
+that his was not the power to build up. His health forbade his entering
+the army, which was a cause of poignant sorrow to him. His faith in
+Italy and her people and in the final triumph of unity remained unshaken
+and sublime in the midst of every reverse.
+
+His mastery of the Tuscan dialect and his elegance of idiom won him
+membership in the Accademia della Crusca; but his love for Tuscany was
+always subservient to his love for Italy. To those who favored the
+division of the peninsula, he used to reply that he had but one
+fatherland, and that was a unit. He died in Florence, March 31, 1850, at
+the home of his devoted friend the Marquis Gino Capponi. In the teeth of
+Austrian prohibition, a throng of grateful and loving citizens followed
+his body to the church of San Miniato al Monte, remembering that at a
+time when freedom of thought was deemed treason, this man had fearlessly
+raised the battle-cry and prepared the way for the insurrection of 1848.
+Besides his satires, Giusti has left us a life of the poet Giuseppe
+Parini, a collection of Tuscan proverbs, and an unedited essay on the
+'Divine Comedy.'
+
+
+
+LULLABY
+
+From 'Gingillino'
+
+    [The poem of 'Gingillino,' one of Giusti's finest satires, is
+    full of personal hits, greatly enjoyed by the author's
+    countrymen. The 'Lullaby' is sung by a number of personified
+    Vices round the cradle of the infant Gingillino, who, having
+    come into the world naked and possessed of nothing, is
+    admonished how to behave if he would go out of it well dressed
+    and rich. A few verses only are given out of the many. The
+    whole poem was one of the most popular of all Giusti's
+    satires.]
+
+
+  Cry not, dear baby,
+    Of nothing possessed;
+  But if thou wouldst, dear,
+    Expire well dressed....
+
+  Let nothing vex thee,--
+    Love's silly story,
+  Ghosts of grand festivals
+    Spectres of glory;
+
+  Let naught annoy thee:
+    The burdens of fame,
+  The manifold perils
+    That wait on a name.
+
+  Content thyself, baby,
+    With learning to read:
+  Don't be vainglorious;
+    That's all thou canst need.
+
+  All promptings of genius
+    Confine in thy breast,
+  If thou wouldst, baby,
+    Expire well dressed....
+
+  Let not God nor Devil
+    Concern thy poor wits,
+  And tell no more truth
+    Than politeness permits.
+
+  With thy soul and thy body,
+    Still worship the Real;
+  Nor ever attempt
+    To pursue the Ideal.
+
+  As for thy scruples,
+    Let them be suppressed,
+  If thou wouldst, baby,
+    Expire well dressed.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'
+
+
+
+THE STEAM-GUILLOTINE
+
+    [The monarch satirized in this poem was Francesco IV., Duke of
+    Modena, a petty Nero, who executed not a few of the Italian
+    patriots of 1831.]
+
+
+  A most wonderful steam-machine,
+    One time set up in China-land,
+  Outdid the insatiate guillotine,
+    For in three hours, you understand,
+  It cut off a hundred thousand heads
+                In a row, like hospital beds.
+
+  This innovation stirred a breeze,
+    And some of the bonzes even thought
+  Their barbarous country by degrees
+    To civilization might be brought,
+  Leaving Europeans, with their schools,
+                Looking like fools.
+
+  The Emperor was an honest man--
+    A little stiff, and dull of pate;
+  Like other asses, hard and slow.
+    He loved his subjects and the State,
+  And patronized all clever men
+                Within his ken.
+
+  His people did not like to pay
+    Their taxes and their other dues,--
+  They cheated the revenue, sad to say:
+    So their good ruler thought he'd choose
+  As the best argument he'd seen,
+                This sweet machine.
+
+  The thing's achievements were so great,
+    They gained a pension for the man,--
+  The executioner of State,--
+    Who got a patent for his plan,
+  Besides becoming a Mandarin
+                Of great Pekin.
+
+  A courtier cried: "Good guillotine!
+    Let's up and christen it, I say!"
+  "Ah, why," cries to his counselor keen
+    A Nero of our present day,
+  "Why was not born within _my_ State
+                A man so great?"
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE.]
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE
+
+(1809-)
+
+
+In view of his distinguished career, it is interesting to know that it
+is a part of Mr. Gladstone's unresting ambition to take a place among
+the literary men of the time, and to guide the thoughts of his
+countrymen in literary as well as in political, social, and economic
+subjects. Mr. Gladstone's preparation to become a man of letters was
+extensive. Born in Liverpool December 29th, 1809, he was sent to Eton
+and afterwards to Oxford, where he took the highest honors, and was the
+most remarkable graduate of his generation. His fellow students carried
+away a vivid recollection of his _viva voce_ examination for his degree:
+the tall figure, the flashing eye, the mobile countenance, in the midst
+of the crowd who pressed to hear him, while the examiners plied him with
+questions till, tested in some difficult point in theology, the
+candidate exclaimed, "Not yet, if you please" and began to pour forth a
+fresh store of learning and argument.
+
+From the university Mr. Gladstone carried away two passions--the one for
+Greek literature, especially Greek poetry, the other for Christian
+theology. The Oxford that formed these tastes was intensely conservative
+in politics, representing the aristocratic system of English society and
+the exclusiveness of the Established Church, whose creed was that of the
+fourth century. Ecclesiasticism is not friendly to literature; but how
+far Oxford's most loyal son was permeated by ecclesiasticism is a matter
+of opinion. Fortunately, personality is stronger than dogma, and ideas
+than literary form; and Mr. Gladstone, than whom few men outside the
+profession of letters have written more, is always sure of an
+intelligent hearing. His discussion of a subject seems to invest it with
+some of his own marvelous vitality; and when he selects a book for
+review, he is said to make the fortune of both publisher and author, if
+only the title be used as a crotchet to hang his sermon on.
+
+And this not merely because curiosity is excited concerning the opinion
+of the greatest living Englishman (for notwithstanding his political
+vacillations, his views on inward and higher subjects have little
+changed since his Oxford days, and may easily be prognosticated), but on
+account of the subtlety and fertility of his mind and the adroitness of
+his argument. Plunging into the heart of the subject, he is at the same
+time working round it, holding it up for inspection in one light and
+then in another, reasoning from this premise and that; while the string
+of elucidations and explanations grows longer and longer, and the
+atmosphere of complexity thickens. It was out of such an atmosphere that
+a barrister advised his client, a bigamist, to get Mr. Gladstone to
+explain away one of his wives.
+
+When Mr. Gladstone made his debut as an author, he locked horns with
+Macaulay in the characteristic paper 'Church and State' (1837). He
+published his 'Studies in Homer and the Homeric Age' in 1858, 'Juventus
+Mundi' in 1869, 'Homeric Synchronism' in 1857. In 1879 most of his
+essays, political, social, economic, religious, and literary, written
+between 1843 and 1879, were collected in seven volumes, and appeared
+under the title of 'Gleanings of Past Years.' He has published a very
+great number of smaller writings not reprinted.
+
+From that time to the present, neither his industry nor his energy has
+abated; but he is probably at his best in the several remarkable essays
+on Blanco White, Bishop Patterson, Tennyson, Leopardi, and the position
+of the Church of England. The reader spoiled for the Scotch quality of
+weight by the "light touch" which is the graceful weapon of the age,
+wonders, when reading these essays, that Mr. Gladstone has not more
+assiduously cultivated the instinct of style,--sentence-making. Milton
+himself has not a higher conception of the business of literature; and
+when discussing these congenial themes, Mr. Gladstone's enthusiasm does
+not degenerate into vehemence, nor does he descend from the high moral
+plane from which he views the world.
+
+It is the province of the specialist to appraise Mr. Gladstone's Homeric
+writings; but even the specialist will not, perhaps, forbear to quote
+the axiom of the pugilist in the Iliad concerning the fate of him who
+would be skillful in all arts. No man is less a Greek in temperament,
+but no man cherishes deeper admiration for the Greek genius, and nowhere
+else is a more vivid picture of the life and politics of the heroic age
+held up to the unlearned. While the critic may question technical
+accuracy, or plausible structures built on insufficient data, the laity
+will remember how earnestly Mr. Gladstone insists that Homer is his own
+best interpreter, and that the student of the Iliad must go to the Greek
+text and not elsewhere for accurate knowledge.
+
+But Greek literature is only one of Mr. Gladstone's two passions, and
+not the paramount one. That he would have been a great theologian had he
+been other than Mr. Gladstone, is generally admitted. And it is
+interesting to note that while he glories in the combats of the heroes
+of Hellas, his enthusiasm is as quickly kindled by the humilities of
+the early Church. He recognizes the prophetic quality of Homer, but he
+bows before the sublimer genius of an Isaiah, and sees in the lives and
+writings of the early Fathers the perfect bloom of human genius and
+character.
+
+
+
+MACAULAY
+
+From 'Gleanings of Past Years'
+
+
+Lord Macaulay lived a life of no more than fifty-nine years and three
+months. But it was an extraordinarily full life, of sustained exertion;
+a high table-land, without depressions. If in its outer aspect there
+be anything wearisome, it is only the wearisomeness of reiterated
+splendors, and of success so uniform as to be almost monotonous. He
+speaks of himself as idle; but his idleness was more active, and carried
+with it hour by hour a greater expenditure of brain power, than what
+most men regard as their serious employments. He might well have been,
+in his mental career, the spoiled child of fortune; for all he tried
+succeeded, all he touched turned into gems and gold. In a happy
+childhood he evinced extreme precocity. His academical career gave
+sufficient, though not redundant, promise of after celebrity. The new
+Golden Age he imparted to the Edinburgh Review, and his first and most
+important, if not best, Parliamentary speeches in the grand crisis of
+the first Reform Bill, achieved for him, years before he had reached the
+middle point of life, what may justly be termed an immense distinction.
+
+For a century and more, perhaps no man in this country, with the
+exceptions of Mr. Pitt and of Lord Byron, had attained at thirty-two the
+fame of Macaulay. His Parliamentary success and his literary eminence
+were each of them enough, as they stood at this date, to intoxicate any
+brain and heart of a meaner order. But to these was added, in his case,
+an amount and quality of social attentions such as invariably partake of
+adulation and idolatry, and as perhaps the high circles of London never
+before or since have lavished on a man whose claims lay only in himself,
+and not in his descent, his rank, or his possessions....
+
+One of the very first things that must strike the observer of this man
+is, that he was very unlike to any other man. And yet this unlikeness,
+this monopoly of the model in which he was made, did not spring from
+violent or eccentric features of originality, for eccentricity he had
+none whatever, but from the peculiar mode in which the ingredients were
+put together to make up the composition. In one sense, beyond doubt,
+such powers as his famous memory, his rare power of illustration, his
+command of language, separated him broadly from others: but gifts like
+these do not make the man; and we now for the first time know that he
+possessed, in a far larger sense, the stamp of a real and strong
+individuality. The most splendid and complete assemblage of intellectual
+endowments does not of itself suffice to create an interest of the kind
+that is, and will be, now felt in Macaulay. It is from ethical gifts
+alone that such an interest can spring.
+
+These existed in him not only in abundance, but in forms distant from
+and even contrasted with the fashion of his intellectual faculties, and
+in conjunctions which come near to paradox. Behind the mask of splendor
+lay a singular simplicity; behind a literary severity which sometimes
+approached to vengeance, an extreme tenderness; behind a rigid
+repudiation of the sentimental, a sensibility at all times quick, and in
+the latest times almost threatening to sap, though never sapping, his
+manhood. He who as speaker and writer seemed above all others to
+represent the age and the world, had the real centre of his being in the
+simplest domestic tastes and joys. He for whom the mysteries of human
+life, thought, and destiny appear to have neither charm nor terror, and
+whose writings seem audibly to boast in every page of being bounded by
+the visible horizon of the practical and work-day sphere, yet in his
+virtues and in the combination of them; in his freshness, bounty,
+bravery; in his unshrinking devotion both to causes and to persons; and
+most of all, perhaps, in the thoroughly inborn and spontaneous character
+of all these gifts,--really recalls the age of chivalry and the
+lineaments of the ideal. The peculiarity, the _differentia_ (so to
+speak) of Macaulay seems to us to lie in this: that while as we frankly
+think, there is much to question--nay, much here and there to regret or
+even censure--in his writings, the excess, or defect, or whatever it may
+be, is never really ethical, but is in all cases due to something in the
+structure and habits of his intellect. And again, it is pretty plain
+that the faults of that intellect were immediately associated with its
+excellences: it was in some sense, to use the language of his own
+Milton, "dark with excessive bright."...
+
+His moderation in luxuries and pleasures is the more notable and
+praiseworthy because he was a man who, with extreme healthiness of
+faculty, enjoyed keenly what he enjoyed at all. Take in proof the
+following hearty notice of a dinner _a quattr' occhi_ to his friend:
+"Ellis came to dinner at seven. I gave him a lobster curry, woodcock,
+and macaroni. I think that I will note dinners, as honest Pepys did."
+
+His love of books was intense, and was curiously developed. In a walk he
+would devour a play or a volume. Once, indeed, his performance embraced
+no less than fourteen Books of the Odyssey. "His way of life," says Mr.
+Trevelyan, "would have been deemed solitary by others; but it was not
+solitary to him." This development blossomed into a peculiar specialism.
+Henderson's 'Iceland' was "a favorite breakfast-book" with him. "Some
+books which I would never dream of opening at dinner please me at
+breakfast, and _vice versá_!" There is more subtlety in this distinction
+than could easily be found in any passage of his writings. But how
+quietly both meals are handed over to the dominion of the master
+propensity! This devotion, however, was not without its drawbacks.
+Thought, apart from books and from composition, perhaps he disliked;
+certainly he eschewed. Crossing that evil-minded sea the Irish Channel
+at night in rough weather, he is disabled from reading; he wraps himself
+in a pea-jacket and sits upon the deck. What is his employment? He
+cannot sleep, or does not. What an opportunity for moving onward in the
+processes of thought, which ought to weigh on the historian! The wild
+yet soothing music of the waves would have helped him to watch the
+verging this way or that of the judicial scales, or to dive into the
+problems of human life and action which history continually is called
+upon to sound. No, he cared for none of this. He set about the marvelous
+feat of going over 'Paradise Lost' from memory, when he found he could
+still repeat half of it. In a word, he was always conversing, or
+recollecting, or reading, or composing; but reflecting never.
+
+The laboriousness of Macaulay as an author demands our gratitude; all
+the more because his natural speech was in sentences of set and ordered
+structure, well-nigh ready for the press. It is delightful to find that
+the most successful prose writer of the day was also the most
+painstaking. Here is indeed a literary conscience. The very same
+gratification may be expressed with reference to our most successful
+poet, Mr. Tennyson. Great is the praise due to the poet; still greater,
+from the nature of the case, that share which falls to the lot of
+Macaulay. For a poet's diligence is, all along, a honeyed work. He is
+ever traveling in flowery meads. Macaulay, on the other hand,
+unshrinkingly went through an immense mass of inquiry, which even he
+sometimes felt to be irksome, and which to most men would have been
+intolerable. He was perpetually picking the grain of corn out of the
+bushel of chaff. He freely chose to undergo the dust and heat and strain
+of battle, before he would challenge from the public the crown of
+victory. And in every way it was remarkable that he should maintain his
+lofty standard of conception and performance. Mediocrity is now, as
+formerly, dangerous, commonly fatal, to the poet; but among even the
+successful writers of prose, those who rise sensibly above it are the
+very rarest exceptions. The tests of excellence in prose are as much
+less palpable as the public appetite is less fastidious. Moreover, we
+are moving downward in this respect. The proportion of middling to good
+writing constantly and rapidly increases. With the average of
+performance, the standard of judgment progressively declines. The
+inexorable conscientiousness of Macaulay, his determination to put out
+nothing from his hand which his hand was still capable of improving, was
+a perfect godsend to the best hopes of our slipshod generation.
+
+It was naturally consequent upon this habit of treating composition in
+the spirit of art, that he should extend to the body of his books much
+of the regard and care which he so profusely bestowed upon their soul.
+We have accordingly had in him, at the time when the need was greatest,
+a most vigilant guardian of the language. We seem to detect rare and
+slight evidences of carelessness in his Journal: of which we can only
+say that in a production of the moment, written for himself alone, we
+are surprised that they are not more numerous and considerable. In
+general society, carelessness of usage is almost universal, and it is
+exceedingly difficult for an individual, however vigilant, to avoid
+catching some of the trashy or faulty usages which are continually in
+his ear. But in his published works his grammar, his orthography, nay,
+his punctuation (too often surrendered to the printer), are faultless.
+On these questions, and on the lawfulness or unlawfulness of a word, he
+may even be called an authority without appeal; and we cannot doubt that
+we owe it to his works, and to their boundless circulation, that we have
+not in this age witnessed a more rapid corruption and degeneration of
+the language.
+
+To the literary success of Macaulay it would be difficult to find a
+parallel in the history of recent authorship. For this and probably for
+all future centuries, we are to regard the public as the patron of
+literary men; and as a patron abler than any that went before to heap
+both fame and fortune on its favorites. Setting aside works of which the
+primary purpose was entertainment, Tennyson alone among the writers of
+our age, in point of public favor and of emolument following upon it,
+comes near to Macaulay. But Tennyson was laboriously cultivating his
+gifts for many years before he acquired a position in the eye of the
+nation. Macaulay, fresh from college in 1825, astonished the world by
+his brilliant and most imposing essay on Milton. Full-orbed, he was seen
+above the horizon; and full-orbed after thirty-five years of constantly
+emitted splendor, he sank beneath it.
+
+His gains from literature were extraordinary. The check for £20,000 is
+known to all. But his accumulation was reduced by his bounty; and his
+profits would, it is evident, have been far larger still had he dealt
+with the products of his mind on the principles of economic science
+(which however he heartily professed), and sold his wares in the dearest
+market, as he undoubtedly acquired them in the cheapest. No one can
+measure the elevation of Macaulay's character above the mercenary level,
+without bearing in mind that for ten years after 1825 he was a poor and
+a contented man, though ministering to the wants of a father and a
+family reduced in circumstances; though in the blaze of literary and
+political success; and though he must have been conscious from the first
+of the possession of a gift which by a less congenial and more
+compulsory use would have rapidly led him to opulence. Yet of the
+comforts and advantages, both social and physical, from which he thus
+forbore, it is so plain that he at all times formed no misanthropic or
+ascetic, but on the contrary a very liberal and genial estimate. It is
+truly touching to find that never, except as a minister, until 1851,
+when he had already lived fifty years of his fifty-nine, did this
+favorite of fortune, this idol of society, allow himself the luxury of a
+carriage.
+
+It has been observed that neither in art nor letters did Macaulay
+display that faculty of the higher criticism which depends upon certain
+refined perceptions and the power of subtle analysis. His analysis was
+always rough, hasty, and sweeping, and his perceptions robust. By these
+properties it was that he was so eminently [Greek: phortikos], not in
+the vulgar sense of an appeal to spurious sentiment, but as one bearing
+his reader along by violence, as the River Scamander tried to bear
+Achilles. Yet he was never pretentious; and he said frankly of himself
+that a criticism like that of Lessing in his 'Laocoön,' or of Goethe on
+'Hamlet,' filled him with wonder and despair. His intense devotion to
+the great work of Dante is not perhaps in keeping with the general tenor
+of his tastes and attachments, but is in itself a circumstance of much
+interest.
+
+We remember however at least one observation of Macaulay's in regard to
+art, which is worth preserving. He observed that the mixture of gold
+with ivory in great works of ancient art--for example, in the Jupiter of
+Phidias--was probably a condescension to the tastes of the people who
+were to be the worshipers of the statue; and he noticed that in
+Christian times it has most rarely happened that productions great in
+art have also been the objects of warm popular veneration....
+
+It has been felt and pointed out in many quarters that Macaulay as a
+writer was the child, and became the type, of his country and his age.
+As fifty years ago the inscription "Bath" used to be carried on our
+letter-paper, so the word "English" is, as it were, in the water-mark of
+every leaf of Macaulay's writing. His country was not the Empire, nor
+was it the United Kingdom. It was not even Great Britain. Though he was
+descended in the higher, that is the paternal, half from Scottish
+ancestry, and was linked specially with that country through the signal
+virtues, the victorious labors, and the considerable reputation of his
+father Zachary,--his country was England. On this little spot he
+concentrated a force of admiration and of worship which might have
+covered all the world. But as in space, so in time, it was limited. It
+was the England of his own age.
+
+The higher energies of his life were as completely summed up in the
+present as those of Walter Scott were projected upon the past. He would
+not have filled an Abbotsford with armor and relics of the Middle Ages.
+He judges the men and institutions and events of other times by the
+instruments and measures of the present. The characters whom he admires
+are those who would have conformed to the type that was before his eyes:
+who would have moved with effect in the court, the camp, the senate,
+the drawing-room of to-day. He contemplates the past with no
+_desiderium_, no regretful longing, no sense of things admirable which
+are also lost and irrecoverable. Upon this limitation of his retrospects
+it follows in natural sequence that of the future he has no glowing
+anticipations, and even the present he is not apt to contemplate on its
+mysterious and ideal side. As in respect to his personal capacity of
+loving, so in regard to the corresponding literary power. The faculty
+was singularly intense, and yet it was spent within a narrow circle.
+There is a marked sign of this narrowness, in his disinclination even to
+look at the works of contemporaries whose tone or manner he disliked.
+
+It appears that this dislike, and the ignorance consequent upon it,
+applied to the works of Carlyle. Now, we may have much or little faith
+in Carlyle as a philosopher or as a historian. Half-lights and
+half-truths may be the utmost which, in these departments, his works
+will be found to yield. But the total want of sympathy is the more
+noteworthy, because the resemblances, though partial, are both numerous
+and substantial between these two remarkable men and powerful writers,
+as well in their strength as in their weakness. Both are honest; and
+both, notwithstanding honesty, are partisans. Each is vastly, though
+diversely, powerful in expression; and each is more powerful in
+expression than in thought. Both are, though variously, poets using the
+vehicle of prose. Both have the power of portraitures, extraordinary for
+vividness and strength. For comprehensive disquisition, for balanced and
+impartial judgments, the world will probably resort to neither; and if
+Carlyle gains on the comparison in his strong sense of the inward and
+the ideal, he loses in the absolute and violent character of his
+one-sidedness. Without doubt, Carlyle's licentious though striking
+peculiarities of style have been of a nature allowably to repel, so far
+as they go, one who was so rigid as Macaulay in his literary orthodoxy,
+and who so highly appreciated, and with such expenditure of labor, all
+that relates to the exterior or body of a book. Still, if there be
+resemblances so strong, the want of appreciation, which has possibly
+been reciprocal, seems to be partly of that nature which Aristotle would
+have explained by his favorite proverb, [Greek: keramens keramei].[D]
+The discrepancy is like the discrepancy of colors that are too near.
+Carlyle is at least a great fact in the literature of his time, and has
+contributed largely,--in some respects too largely,--toward forming its
+characteristic habits of thought. But on these very grounds he should
+not have been excluded from the horizon of a mind like Macaulay's, with
+all its large and varied and most active interests....
+
+    [D] Potter [detests] potter.
+
+There have been other men of our own generation, though very few, who if
+they have not equaled have approached Macaulay in power of memory, and
+who have certainly exceeded him in the unfailing accuracy of their
+recollections; and yet not in accuracy as to dates or names or
+quotations, or other matters of hard fact, when the question was one
+simply between ay and no. In these he may have been without a rival. In
+a list of kings, or popes, or senior wranglers, or prime ministers, or
+battles, or palaces, or as to the houses in Pall Mall or about Leicester
+Square, he might be followed with implicit confidence. But a large and
+important class of human recollections are not of this order:
+recollections for example of characters, of feelings, of opinions; of
+the intrinsic nature, details, and bearings of occurrences. And here it
+was that Macaulay's wealth "was unto him an occasion of falling." And
+that in two ways. First, the possessor of such a vehicle as his memory
+could not but have something of an overweening confidence in what it
+told him; and quite apart from any tendency to be vain or overbearing,
+he could hardly enjoy the benefits of that caution which arises from
+self-interest, and the sad experience of frequent falls. But what is
+more, the possessor of so powerful a fancy could not but illuminate with
+the colors it supplied, the matters which he gathered into his great
+magazine, wherever the definiteness of their outline was not so rigid as
+to defy or disarm the action of the intruding and falsifying faculty.
+Imagination could not alter the date of the battle of Marathon, of the
+Council of Nice, or the crowning of Pepin; but it might seriously or
+even fundamentally disturb the balance of light and dark in his account
+of the opinions of Milton or of Laud, or his estimate of the effects of
+the Protectorate or the Restoration, or of the character and even the
+adulteries of William III. He could detect justly this want of dry light
+in others; he probably suspected it in himself; but it was hardly
+possible for him to be enough upon his guard against the distracting
+action of a faculty at once so vigorous, so crafty, and so pleasurable
+in its intense activity.
+
+Hence arose, it seems reasonable to believe, that charge of partisanship
+against Macaulay as a historian, on which much has been and probably
+much more will be said. He may not have possessed that scrupulously
+tender sense of obligation, that nice tact of exact justice, which is
+among the very rarest as well as the most precious of human virtues. But
+there never was a writer less capable of intentional unfairness. This
+during his lifetime was the belief of his friends, but was hardly
+admitted by opponents. His biographer has really lifted the question out
+of the range of controversy. He wrote for truth, but of course for truth
+such as he saw it; and his sight was colored from within. This color,
+once attached, was what in manufacture is called a mordant; it was a
+fast color: he could not distinguish between what his mind had received
+and what his mind had imparted. Hence, when he was wrong, he could not
+see that he was wrong; and of those calamities which are due to the
+intellect only, and not the heart, there can hardly be a greater....
+
+However true it may be that Macaulay was a far more consummate workman
+in the manner than in the matter of his works, we do not doubt that the
+works contain, in multitudes, passages of high emotion and ennobling
+sentiment, just awards of praise and blame, and solid expositions of
+principle, social, moral, and constitutional. They are pervaded by a
+generous love of liberty; and their atmosphere is pure and bracing,
+their general aim and basis morally sound. Of the qualifications of this
+eulogy we have spoken, and have yet to speak. But we can speak of the
+style of the works with little qualification. We do not indeed venture
+to assert that his style ought to be imitated. Yet this is not because
+it was vicious, but because it was individual and incommunicable. It was
+one of those gifts of which, when it had been conferred, Nature broke
+the mold. That it is the head of all literary styles we do not allege;
+but it is different from them all, and perhaps more different from them
+all than they are usually different from one another. We speak only of
+natural styles, of styles where the manner waits upon the matter, and
+not where an artificial structure has been reared either to hide or to
+make up for poverty of substance.
+
+It is paramount in the union of ease in movement with perspicuity of
+matter, of both with real splendor, and of all with immense rapidity and
+striking force. From any other pen, such masses of ornament would be
+tawdry; with him they are only rich. As a model of art concealing art,
+the finest cabinet pictures of Holland are almost his only rivals. Like
+Pascal, he makes the heaviest subject light; like Burke, he embellishes
+the barrenest. When he walks over arid plains, the springs of milk and
+honey, as in a march of Bacchus, seem to rise beneath his tread. The
+repast he serves is always sumptuous, but it seems to create an appetite
+proportioned to its abundance; for who has ever heard of the reader that
+was cloyed with Macaulay? In none, perhaps, of our prose writers are
+lessons such as he gives of truth and beauty, of virtue and of freedom,
+so vividly associated with delight. Could some magician but do for the
+career of life what he has done for the arm-chair and the study, what a
+change would pass on the face (at least) of the world we live in, what
+an accession of recruits would there be to the professing followers of
+virtue!...
+
+The truth is that Macaulay was not only accustomed, like many more of
+us, to go out hobby-riding, but from the portentous vigor of the animal
+he mounted was liable more than most of us to be run away with. His
+merit is that he could keep his seat in the wildest steeple-chase; but
+as the object in view is arbitrarily chosen, so it is reached by cutting
+up the fields, spoiling the crops, and spoiling or breaking down the
+fences needful to secure for labor its profit, and to man at large the
+full enjoyment of the fruits of the earth. Such is the overpowering glow
+of color, such the fascination of the grouping in the first sketches
+which he draws, that when he has grown hot upon his work he seems to
+lose all sense of the restraints of fact and the laws of moderation; he
+vents the strangest paradoxes, sets up the most violent caricatures, and
+handles the false weight and measure as effectively as if he did it
+knowingly. A man so able and so upright is never indeed wholly wrong. He
+never for a moment consciously pursues anything but truth. But truth
+depends, above all, on proportion and relation. The preterhuman
+vividness with which Macaulay sees his object, absolutely casts a shadow
+upon what lies around; he loses his perspective; and imagination,
+impelled headlong by the strong consciousness of honesty in purpose,
+achieves the work of fraud. All things for him stand in violent contrast
+to one another. For the shadows, the gradations, the middle and
+transition touches, which make up the bulk of human life, character,
+and action, he has neither eye nor taste. They are not taken account of
+in his practice, and they at length die away from the ranges of his
+vision.
+
+In Macaulay all history is scenic; and philosophy he scarcely seems to
+touch, except on the outer side, where it opens into action. Not only
+does he habitually present facts in forms of beauty, but the fashioning
+of the form predominates over, and is injurious to, the absolute and
+balanced presentation of the subject. Macaulay was a master in
+execution, rather than in what painting or music terms expression. He
+did not fetch from the depths, nor soar to the heights; but his power
+upon the surface was rare and marvelous, and it is upon the surface that
+an ordinary life is passed and that its imagery is found. He mingled,
+then, like Homer, the functions of the poet and the chronicler: but what
+Homer did was due to his time; what Macaulay did, to his temperament.
+
+The 'History' of Macaulay, whatever else it may be, is the work not of a
+journeyman but of a great artist, and a great artist who lavishly
+bestowed upon it all his powers. Such a work, once committed to the
+press, can hardly die. It is not because it has been translated into a
+crowd of languages, nor because it has been sold in hundreds of
+thousands, that we believe it will live; but because, however open it
+may be to criticism, it has in it the character of a true and very high
+work of art....
+
+Whether he will subsist as a standard and supreme authority is another
+question. Wherever and whenever read, he will be read with fascination,
+with delight, with wonder. And with copious instruction too; but also
+with copious reserve, with questioning scrutiny, with liberty to reject
+and with much exercise of that liberty. The contemporary mind may in
+rare cases be taken by storm; but posterity, never. The tribunal of the
+present is accessible to influence; that of the future is incorrupt. The
+coming generations will not give Macaulay up; but they will probably
+attach much less value than we have done to his _ipse dixit_. They will
+hardly accept from him his net solutions of literary, and still less of
+historic problems. Yet they will obtain, from his marked and telling
+points of view, great aid in solving them. We sometimes fancy that ere
+long there will be editions of his works in which his readers may be
+saved from pitfalls by brief, respectful, and judicious commentary; and
+that his great achievements may be at once commemorated and corrected by
+men of slower pace, of drier light, and of more tranquil, broad-set,
+and comprehensive judgment. For his works are in many respects among the
+prodigies of literature; in some, they have never been surpassed. As
+lights that have shone through the whole universe of letters, they have
+made their title to a place in the solid firmament of fame. But the tree
+is greater and better than its fruit; and greater and better yet than
+the works themselves are the lofty aims and conceptions, the large
+heart, the independent, manful mind, the pure and noble career, which in
+this Biography have disclosed to us the true figure of the man who wrote
+them.
+
+
+
+
+EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN
+
+(1831-)
+
+[Illustration: EDWIN L. GODKIN]
+
+
+Among the men in the United States who through the agency of the press
+have molded intelligent public opinion, Edwin Lawrence Godkin deserves
+an honorable place. In the columns of the New York Nation and the New
+York Evening Post, he has for a generation given editorial utterance to
+his views upon economic, civic, political, and international questions,
+this work being supplemented by occasional incisive and scholarly
+articles in the best periodicals. His clientèle has been drawn mainly
+from that powerful minority which is made up of the educated, thoughtful
+men and women of the country. To this high function Mr. Godkin has
+contributed exceptional gifts and qualifications; and that in its
+exercise he has been a force for good, is beyond dispute.
+
+Born in Moyne, Ireland, in 1831, he was educated at Queen's College,
+Belfast. Then came the more practical education derived from a
+familiarity with men and things, for in early manhood he began newspaper
+work as war correspondent, in Turkey and the Crimea, of the London Daily
+News. As correspondent of this paper he came to the United States and
+settled here, being admitted to the New York bar in 1858. But journalism
+was to be his life work; and in 1865 he became the editor of The Nation,
+a weekly,--succeeding the Round Table, but at once taking a much more
+important place as a journal of political and literary discussion,--and
+the next year its proprietor. In 1881 he also became one of the owners
+and the controlling editor of the New York Evening Post, a daily, and
+his contributions since then have appeared in both papers, which bear to
+each other the relation of a daily and weekly edition. Thus he has been
+in active journalistic service for more than thirty years.
+
+From this slight biographical outline it may be seen that Mr. Godkin
+brought to the pursuit of his profession and to the study of American
+institutions some valuable qualifications. A college-bred man of wide
+experience, an adoptive American able to judge by the comparative
+method, a careful student of the philosophy of government, from
+Aristotle to Sir Henry Maine, his views combine in an unusual degree the
+practical and the theoretical. No doubt he has in his writings what to
+some will seem the defect of his quality. There is in him a certain
+haughtiness of temper, and what seems like impatient contempt for the
+opponent in argument, which, conjoined with a notable power of invective
+and satire in dealing with what he deems to be fallacious, are likely to
+arouse opposition. Hence the feeling in some quarters that Mr. Godkin is
+not at heart an American, but a captious critic, with sympathies ill
+suited to a democratic government.
+
+This opinion is not justified by a fair examination of his writings. He
+has on the contrary and in the true sense proved himself a true
+American. He has spoken wise words upon many of the social and political
+problems of our day. He has defended democracy from the charge of
+failure, pointing out that here in the United States social defects,
+wrongly ascribed by foreign critics to the form of government, have been
+incidental to the settling of a vast new country. He has stated with
+clearness and cogency the inadvisability of allowing the government
+paternal power in finance and tariff legislation. He has preached the
+difference between cheap jingoism or political partisanship, and the
+enlightened Americanism which puts its finger upon weak points,
+criticizing in order to correct and purify. Mr. Godkin, in this, has
+been a consistent worker in a cause of which Lowell was a noble prophet.
+And in regard of literary excellence, his editorial writing is often a
+model of lucid, sinewy English style; while his more deliberated essays
+have been admirable for calm dignity, polish, and organic exposition,
+with an air of good breeding over it all. The influence of such a man,
+both as writer and thinker, especially in a land like the United States,
+has been most salutary.
+
+
+
+THE DUTY OF CRITICISM IN A DEMOCRACY
+
+From 'Problems of Modern Democracy.' Copyright 1896, by Charles
+Scribner's Sons, New York
+
+
+No intelligent man can or ought to ignore the part which hope of better
+things plays in our present social system. It has largely, among the
+working classes, taken the place of religious belief. They have brought
+their heaven down to earth, and are literally looking forward to a sort
+of New Jerusalem, in which all comforts and many of the luxuries of life
+will be within easy reach of all. The great success of Utopian works
+like Bellamy's shows the hold which these ideas have taken of the
+popular mind. The world has to have a religion of some kind, and the
+hope of better food and clothing, more leisure, and a greater variety of
+amusements, has become the religion of the working classes. Hope makes
+them peaceful, industrious, and resigned under present suffering. A
+Frenchman saw a ragged pauper spend his last few cents on a lottery
+ticket, and asked him how he could commit such a folly. "In order to
+have something to hope for," he said. And from this point of view the
+outlay was undoubtedly excusable. It is literally hope which makes the
+world go round, and one of the hardest things an educated man who opens
+his mouth about public affairs has to do, is to say one word or anything
+to dampen or destroy it. Yet his highest duty is to speak the truth.
+
+Luckily, there is one truth which can always be spoken without offense,
+and that is that on the whole the race advances through the increase of
+intelligence and the improvement of character, and has not advanced in
+any other way. The great amelioration in the condition of the working
+classes in Europe within this century, including the increasing power of
+the trades-unions, is the result not of any increase of benevolence in
+the upper classes, but of the growth of knowledge and self-reliance and
+foresight among the working classes themselves. The changes in
+legislation which have improved their condition are changes which they
+have demanded. When a workingman becomes a capitalist, and raises
+himself in any way above his early condition, it is rarely the result of
+miracle or accident. It is due to his superior intelligence and thrift.
+Nothing, on the whole, can be more delusive than official and other
+inquiries into the labor problem through commissions and legislative
+committees. They all assume that there is some secret in the relations
+of labor and capital which can be found out by taking testimony. But
+they never find anything out. Their reports during the last fifty years
+would make a small library, but they never tell us anything new. They
+are meant to pacify and amuse the laborer, and they do so; but to their
+constant failure to do anything more we owe some of the Socialist
+movement. The Socialists believe this failure due to want of will, and
+that Karl Marx has discovered the great truth of the situation, which
+is, that labor is entitled to the whole product. The great law which
+Nature seems to have prescribed for the government of the world, and the
+only law of human society which we are able to extract from history, is
+that the more intelligent and thoughtful of the race shall inherit the
+earth and have the best time, and that all others shall find life on the
+whole dull and unprofitable. Socialism is an attempt to contravene this
+law and insure a good time to everybody, independently of character and
+talents; but Nature will see that she is not frustrated or brought to
+naught, and I do not think educated men should ever cease to call
+attention to this fact; that is, ever cease to preach hopefulness, not
+to everybody, but to good people. This is no bar to benevolence to bad
+people or any people; but our first duty is loyalty to the great
+qualities of our kind, to the great human virtues which raise the
+civilized man above the savage.
+
+There is probably no government in the world to-day as stable as that of
+the United States. The chief advantage of democratic government is, in a
+country like this, the enormous force it can command on an emergency. By
+"emergency" I mean the suppression of an insurrection or the conduct of
+a foreign war. But it is not equally strong in the ordinary work of
+administration. A good many governments, by far inferior to it in
+strength, fill the offices, collect the taxes, administer justice, and
+do the work of legislation with much greater efficiency. One cause of
+this inefficiency is that the popular standard in such matters is low,
+and that it resents dissatisfaction as an assumption of superiority.
+When a man says these and those things ought not to be, his neighbors,
+who find no fault with them, naturally accuse him of giving himself
+airs. It seems as if he thought he knew more than they did, and was
+trying to impose his plans on them. The consequence is that in a land of
+pure equality, as this is, critics are always an unpopular class, and
+criticism is in some sense an odious work. The only condemnation passed
+on the governmental acts or systems is apt to come from the opposite
+party in the form of what is called "arraignment," which generally
+consists in wholesale abuse of the party in power, treating all their
+acts, small or great, as due to folly or depravity, and all their public
+men as either fools or knaves. Of course this makes but small impression
+on the public mind. It is taken to indicate not so much a desire to
+improve the public service as to get hold of the offices, and has as a
+general rule but little effect. Parties lose their hold on power through
+some conspicuously obnoxious acts or failures; never, or very rarely,
+through the judgments passed on them by hostile writers or orators. And
+yet nothing is more necessary to successful government than abundant
+criticism from sources not open to the suspicion of particular interest.
+There is nothing which bad governments so much dislike and resent as
+criticism, and have in past ages taken so much pains to put down. In
+fact, a history of the civil liberty would consist largely of an account
+of the resistance to criticism on the part of rulers. One of the first
+acts of a successful tyranny or despotism is always the silencing of the
+press or the establishment of a censorship.
+
+Popular objection to criticism is however senseless, because it is
+through criticism--that is, through discrimination between two things,
+customs, or courses--that the race has managed to come out of the woods
+and lead a civilized life. The first man who objected to the general
+nakedness, and advised his fellows to put on clothes, was the first
+critic. Criticism of a high tariff recommends a low tariff; criticism of
+monarchy recommends a republic; criticism of vice recommends virtue. In
+fact, almost every act of life, in the practice of a profession or the
+conduct of a business, condemns one course and suggests another. The
+word means _judging_, and judgment is the highest of the human
+faculties, the one which most distinguishes us from the animals.
+
+There is probably nothing from which the public service of the country
+suffers more to-day than the silence of its educated class; that is, the
+small amount of criticism which comes from the disinterested and
+competent sources. It is a very rare thing for an educated man to say
+anything publicly about the questions of the day. He is absorbed in
+science, or art, or literature, in the practice of his profession, or in
+the conduct of his business; and if he has any interest at all in public
+affairs, it is a languid one. He is silent because he does not much
+care, or because he does not wish to embarrass the administration or
+"hurt the party," or because he does not feel that anything he could say
+would make much difference. So that on the whole, it is very rarely that
+the instructed opinion of the country is ever heard on any subject. The
+report of the Bar Association on the nomination of Maynard in New York
+was a remarkable exception to this rule. Some improvement in this
+direction has been made by the appearance of the set of people known as
+the "Mugwumps," who are, in the main, men of cultivation. They have been
+defined in various ways. They are known to the masses mainly as
+"kickers"; that is, dissatisfied, querulous people, who complain of
+everybody and cannot submit to party discipline. But they are the only
+critics who do not criticize in the interest of party, but simply in
+that of good government. They are a kind of personage whom the bulk of
+the voters know nothing about and find it difficult to understand, and
+consequently load with ridicule and abuse. But their movement, though
+its visible recognizable effects on elections may be small, has done
+inestimable service in slackening the bonds of party discipline, in
+making the expression of open dissent from party programmes respectable
+and common, and in increasing the unreliable vote in large States like
+New York. It is of the last importance that this unreliable vote--that
+is, the vote which party leaders cannot count on with certainty--should
+be large in such States. The mere fear of it prevents a great many
+excesses.
+
+But in criticism one always has hard work in steering a straight course
+between optimism and pessimism. These are the Scylla and Charybdis of
+the critic's career. Almost every man who thinks or speaks about public
+affairs is either an optimist or a pessimist; which he is, depends a
+good deal on temperament, but often on character. The political jobber
+or corruptionist is almost always an optimist. So is the prosperous
+business man. So is nearly every politician, because the optimist is
+nearly always the more popular of the two. As a general rule, people
+like cheerful men and the promise of good times. The kill-joy and bearer
+of bad news has always been an odious character. But for the cultivated
+man there is no virtue in either optimism or pessimism. Some people
+think it a duty to be optimistic, and for some people it may be a duty;
+but one of the great uses of education is to teach us to be neither one
+nor the other. In the management of our personal affairs, we try to be
+neither one nor the other. In business, a persistent and uproarious
+optimist would certainly have poor credit. And why? Because in business
+the trustworthy man, as everybody knows, is the man who sees things as
+they are: and to see things as they are, without glamor or illusion, is
+the first condition of worldly success. It is absolutely essential in
+war, in finance, in law, in every field of human activity in which the
+future has to be thought of and provided for. It is just as essential in
+politics. The only reason why it is not thought as essential in politics
+is, the punishment for failure or neglect comes in politics more
+slowly.
+
+The pessimist has generally a bad name, but there is a good deal to be
+said for him. To take a recent illustration, the man who took
+pessimistic views of the silver movement was for nearly twenty years
+under a cloud. This gloomy anticipation of 1873 was not realized until
+1893. For a thousand years after Marcus Aurelius, the pessimist, if I
+may use the expression, was "cock of the walk." He certainly has no
+reason to be ashamed of his rôle in the Eastern world for a thousand
+years after the Mohammedan Hegira. In Italy and Spain he has not needed
+to hang his head since the Renaissance. In fact, if we take various
+nations and long reaches of time, we shall find that the gloomy man has
+been nearly as often justified by the course of events as the cheerful
+one. Neither of them has any special claim to a hearing on public
+affairs. A persistent optimist, although he may be a most agreeable man
+in family life, is likely, in business or politics, to be just as
+foolish and unbearable as a persistent pessimist. He is as much out of
+harmony with the order of nature. The universe is not governed on
+optimistic any more than on pessimistic principles. The best and wisest
+of men make their mistakes and have their share of sorrow and sickness
+and losses. So also the most happily situated nations must suffer from
+internal discord, the blunders of statesmen, and the madness of the
+people. What Cato said in the Senate of the conditions of success,
+"vigilando, agendo, bene consulendo, prospere omnia cedunt," is as true
+to-day as it was two thousand years ago. We must remember that though
+the optimist may be the pleasantest man to have about us, he is the
+least likely to take precautions; that is, the least likely to watch and
+work for success. We owe a great deal of our slovenly legislation to his
+presence in large numbers in Congress and the legislatures. The great
+suffering through which we are now passing, in consequence of the
+persistence in our silver purchases, is the direct result of unreasoning
+optimism. Its promoters disregarded the warnings of economists and
+financiers because they believed that somehow, they did not know how,
+the thing would come out right in the end. The silver collapse, together
+with the Civil War over slavery, are striking illustrations to occur in
+one century, of the fact that if things come out right in the end, it is
+often after periods of great suffering and disaster. Could people have
+foreseen how the slavery controversy would end, what frantic efforts
+would have been made for peaceful abolition! Could people have foreseen
+the panic of last year, with its wide-spread disaster, what haste would
+have been made to stop the silver purchases! And yet the experience of
+mankind afforded abundant reason for anticipating both results.
+
+This leads me to say that the reason why educated men should try and
+keep a fair mental balance between both pessimism and optimism, is that
+there has come over the world in the last twenty-five or thirty years a
+very great change of opinion touching the relations of the government to
+the community. When Europe settled down to peaceful work after the great
+wars of the French Revolution, it was possessed with the idea that the
+freedom of the individual was all that was needed for public prosperity
+and private happiness. The old government interference with people's
+movements and doings was supposed to be the reason why nations had not
+been happy in the past. This became the creed, in this country, of the
+Democratic party, which came into existence after the foundation of the
+federal government. At the same time there grew up here the popular idea
+of the American character, in which individualism was the most marked
+trait. If you are not familiar with it in your own time, you may
+remember it in the literature of the earlier half of the century. The
+typical American was always the architect of his own fortunes. He sailed
+the seas and penetrated the forest, and built cities and lynched the
+horse thieves, and fought the Indians and dug the mines, without
+anybody's help or support. He had even an ill-concealed contempt for
+regular troops, as men under control and discipline. He scorned
+government for any other purposes than security and the administration
+of justice. This was the kind of American that Tocqueville found here in
+1833. He says:--
+
+     "The European often sees in the public functionaries simply
+     force; the American sees nothing but law. One may then say
+     that in America a man never obeys a man, or anything but
+     justice and law. Consequently he has formed of himself an
+     opinion which is often exaggerated, but is always salutary.
+     He trusts without fear to his own strength, which appears to
+     him equal to anything. A private individual conceives some
+     sort of enterprise. Even if this enterprise have some sort of
+     connection with the public welfare, it never occurs to him to
+     address himself to the government in order to obtain its aid.
+     He makes his plan known, offers to carry it out, calls other
+     individuals to his aid, and struggles with all his might
+     against any obstacles there may be in his way. Often,
+     without doubt, he succeeds less well than the State would in
+     his place; but in the long run the general result of
+     individual enterprises far surpasses anything the government
+     could do."
+
+Now there is no doubt that if this type of character has not passed
+away, it has been greatly modified; and it has been modified by two
+agencies--the "labor problem," as it is called, and legislative
+protection to native industry. I am not going to make an argument about
+the value of this protection in promoting native industry, or about its
+value from the industrial point of view. We may or we may not owe to it
+the individual progress and prosperity of the United States. About that
+I do not propose to say anything. What I want to say is that the
+doctrine that it is a function of government, not simply to foster
+industry in general, but to consider the case of every particular
+industry and give it the protection that it needs, could not be preached
+and practiced for thirty years in a community like this, without
+modifying the old American conception of the relation of the government
+to the individual. It makes the government, in a certain sense, a
+partner in every industrial enterprise, and makes every Presidential
+election an affair of the pocket to every miner and manufacturer and to
+his men; for the men have for fully thirty years been told that the
+amount of their wages would depend, to a certain extent at least, on the
+way the election went. The notion that the government owes assistance to
+individuals in carrying on business and making a livelihood has in fact,
+largely through the tariff discussions, permeated a very large class of
+the community, and has materially changed what I may call the American
+outlook. It has greatly reinforced among the foreign-born population the
+socialistic ideas which many bring here with them, of the powers and
+duties of the State toward labor; for it is preached vehemently by the
+employing class.
+
+What makes this look the more serious is, that our political and social
+manners are not adapted to it. In Europe, the State is possessed of an
+administrative machine which has a finish, efficacy, and permanence
+unknown here. Tocqueville comments on its absence among us; and it is,
+as all the advocates of civil-service reform know, very difficult to
+supply. All the agencies of the government suffer from the imposition on
+them of what I may call non-American duties. For instance, a
+custom-house organized as a political machine was never intended to
+collect the enormous sum of duties which must pass through its hands
+under our tariff. A post-office whose master has to be changed every
+four years to "placate" Tammany, or the anti-Snappers, or any other body
+of politicians, was never intended to handle the huge mass which
+American mails have now become. One of the greatest objections to the
+income tax is the prying into people's affairs which it involves. No man
+likes to tell what his income is to every stranger, much less to a
+politician, which our collectors are sure to be. Secrecy on the part of
+the collector is in fact essential to reconcile people to it in England
+or Germany, where it is firmly established; but our collectors sell
+their lists to the newspapers in order to make the contributors pay up.
+
+In all these things, we are trying to meet the burdens and
+responsibilities of much older societies with the machinery of a much
+earlier and simpler state of things. It is high time to halt in this
+progress until our administrative system has been brought up to the
+level even of our present requirements. It is quite true that, with our
+system of State and federal constitutions laying prohibitions on the
+Legislature and Congress, any great extension of the sphere of
+government in our time seems very unlikely. Yet the assumption by
+Congress, with the support of the Supreme Court, of the power to issue
+paper money in time of peace, the power to make prolonged purchases of a
+commodity like silver, the power to impose an income tax, to execute
+great public works, and to protect native industry, are powers large
+enough to effect a great change in the constitution of society and in
+the distribution of wealth, such as, it is safe to say, in the present
+state of human culture, no government ought to have and exercise.
+
+One hears every day from educated people some addition to the number of
+things which "governments" ought to do, but for which any government we
+have at present is totally unfit. One listens to them with amazement,
+when looking at the material of which our government is composed,--for
+the matter of that, of which all governments are composed; for I suppose
+there is no question that all legislative bodies in the world have in
+twenty years run down in quality. The parliamentary system is apparently
+failing to meet the demands of modern democratic society, and is falling
+into some disrepute; but it would seem as if there was at present just
+as little chance of a substitute of any kind as of the dethronement of
+universal suffrage. It will probably last indefinitely, and be as good
+or as bad as its constituents make it. But this probable extension of
+the powers and functions of government makes more necessary than ever a
+free expression of opinion, and especially of educated opinion. We may
+rail at "mere talk" as much as we please, but the probability is that
+the affairs of nations and of men will be more and more regulated by
+talk. The amount of talk which is now expended on all subjects of human
+interest--and in "talk" I include contributions to periodical
+literature--is something of which no previous age has had the smallest
+conception. Of course it varies infinitely in quality. A very large
+proportion of it does no good beyond relieving the feelings of the
+talker. Political philosophers maintain, and with good reason, that one
+of its greatest uses is keeping down discontent under popular
+government. It is undoubtedly true that it is an immense relief to a man
+with a grievance to express his feelings about it in words, even if he
+knows that his words will have no immediate effect. Self-love is apt to
+prevent most men from thinking that anything they say with passion or
+earnestness will utterly and finally fail. But still it is safe to
+suppose that one half of the talk of the world on subjects of general
+interest is waste. But the other half certainly tells. We know this from
+the change in ideas from generation to generation. We see that opinions
+which at one time everybody held became absurd in the course of half a
+century--opinions about religion and morals and manners and government.
+Nearly every man of my age can recall old opinions of his own on
+subjects of general interest, which he once thought highly respectable,
+and which he is now almost ashamed of having ever held. He does not
+remember when he changed them, or why, but somehow they have passed away
+from him.
+
+In communities these changes are often very striking. The
+transformation, for instance, of the England of Cromwell into the
+England of Queen Anne, or of the New England of Cotton Mather into the
+New England of Theodore Parker and Emerson, was very extraordinary, but
+it would be very difficult to say in detail what brought it about or
+when it began. Lecky has some curious observations in his "History of
+Rationalism" on these silent changes in new beliefs, apropos of the
+disappearance of the belief in witchcraft. Nobody could say what had
+swept it away; but it appeared that in a certain year people were ready
+to burn old women as witches, and a few years later were ready to laugh
+at or pity any one who thought old women could be witches. "At one
+period," says he, "we find every one disposed to believe in witches; at
+a later period we find this predisposition has silently passed away."
+The belief in witchcraft may perhaps be considered a somewhat violent
+illustration, like the change in public opinion about slavery in this
+country. But there can be no doubt that it is talk--somebody's,
+anybody's, everybody's talk--by which these changes are wrought, by
+which each generation comes to feel and think differently from its
+predecessor.
+
+No one ever talks freely about anything without contributing something,
+let it be ever so little, to the unseen forces which carry the race on
+to its final destiny. Even if he does not make a positive impression, he
+counteracts or modifies some other impression, or sets in motion some
+train of ideas in some one else, which helps to change the face of the
+world. So I shall, in disregard of the great laudation of silence which
+filled the earth in the days of Carlyle, say that one of the functions
+of an educated man is to talk; and of course he should try to talk
+wisely.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE.]
+
+
+
+
+GOETHE
+
+(1749-1832)
+
+BY EDWARD DOWDEN
+
+
+Johann Wolfgang Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main on August 28th,
+1749, and died at Weimar on March 22d, 1832. His great life, extending
+over upwards of fourscore years, makes him a man of the eighteenth
+century and also of the nineteenth. He belongs not only to German but to
+European literature. And in the history of European literature his
+position is that of successor to Voltaire and Rousseau. Humanity, as
+Voltaire said, had lost its title-deeds, and the task of the eighteenth
+century was to recover them. Under all Voltaire's zeal for destruction
+in matters of religious belief lay a positive faith and a creative
+sentiment,--a faith in human intellect and the sentiment of social
+justice. What indefatigable toil! what indefatigable play! Surely it was
+not all to establish a negation. Voltaire poured a gay yet bitter _élan_
+into the intellectual movement of his time. Yet amid his various efforts
+for humanity he wanted love; he wanted reverence. And although a
+positive tendency underlies his achievements, we are warranted in
+repeating the common sentence, that upon the whole he destroyed more
+than he built up.
+
+Voltaire fought to enfranchise the understanding. Rousseau dreamed,
+brooded, suffered, to emancipate the heart. A wave of passion, or at
+least of sentiment, swept over Europe with the 'Nouvelle Héloise,' the
+'Émile,' the 'Confessions.' It was Rousseau, exclaims Byron, who "threw
+enchantment over passion," who "knew how to make madness beautiful."
+Such an emancipation of the heart was felt, in the eighteenth century,
+to be a blessed deliverance from the material interests and the eager
+yet too arid speculation of the age. But Byron in that same passage of
+'Childe Harold' names Rousseau "the self-torturing sophist." And a
+sophist Rousseau was. His intellect fed upon fictions, and dangerous
+fictions,--fictions respecting nature, respecting the individual man,
+respecting human society. Therefore his intellect failed to illuminate,
+clarify, tranquilize his heart. His emotions were turbid, restless, and
+lacking in sanity.
+
+Here then were Goethe's two great predecessors: one a most vivacious
+intelligence, the other a brooding sensibility; one aiming at an
+emancipation of the understanding, but deficient in reverence and in
+love; the other aiming at an emancipation of the affections, but
+deficient in sanity of thought. In what relation stood Goethe to these
+great forces of the eighteenth century?
+
+In his old age Goethe, speaking of Voltaire, uses the words "a universal
+source of light." But as a young man he was repelled by "the factious
+dishonesty of Voltaire, and his perversion of so many worthy subjects."
+"He would never have done," says Goethe, "with degrading religion and
+the sacred books, for the sake of injuring priestcraft, as they called
+it." Goethe, indeed, did not deny a use to the spirit of negation.
+Mephistopheles lives and works. Yet he lives and works as the unwilling
+servant of the Lord, and the service he renders is to provoke men from
+indolence to activity.
+
+Into the influence of Rousseau, on the contrary, and into the general
+movement of feeling to which Rousseau belonged, Goethe in his youth was
+caught, almost inevitably; and he abandoned himself to it for a time, it
+might seem without restraint.
+
+Yet Goethe differed from Rousseau as profoundly as he differed from
+Voltaire. Rousseau's undisciplined sensibility, morbidly excited by the
+harshness or imagined harshness of his fellows, by bodily torment, by
+broodings in solitude, became at last one quivering mass of disease. "No
+tragedy had ever a fifth act so squalid." What a contrast to the closing
+scenes of Goethe's life in that house of his, like a modest temple of
+the Muses, listening to Plutarch read aloud by his daughter-in-law, or
+serenely active, "ohne Hast aber ohne Rast" (without haste, but without
+rest), in widening his sympathies with men or enlarging his knowledge of
+nature.
+
+How was this? Why did the ways part so widely for Rousseau and for
+Goethe?
+
+The young creator of 'Werther' may seem to have started on his career as
+a German Rousseau. In reality, 'Werther' expressed only a fragment of
+Goethe's total self. A reserve force of will and an intellect growing
+daily in clearness and in energy would not permit him to end as Rousseau
+ended. In 'Götz von Berlichingen' there goes up a cry for freedom; it
+presents the more masculine side of that spirit of revolt from the bonds
+of the eighteenth century, that "return to nature," which is presented
+in its more feminine aspects by 'Werther.' But by degrees it became
+evident to Goethe that the only true ideal of freedom is a liberation
+not of the passions, not of the intellect, but of the whole man; that
+this involves a conciliation of all the powers and faculties within us;
+and that such a conciliation can be effected only by degrees, and by
+steadfast toil.
+
+And so we find him willing during ten years at Weimar to undertake work
+which might appear to be fatal to the development of his genius. To
+reform army administration, make good roads, work the mines with
+energetic intelligence, restore the finances to order,--was this fit
+employment for one born to be a poet? Except a few lyrics and the prose
+'Iphigenie,' these years produced no literary work of importance; yet
+Goethe himself speaks of them as his "zweite Schriftstellerepoche."--his
+second epoch as a writer. They were needful to make him a master in the
+art of life, needful to put him into possession of all his powers.
+Men of genius are quick growers; but men of the highest genius, which
+includes the wisdom of human life, are not speedily ripe. Goethe
+had entered literature early; he had stormed the avenues. Now at
+six-and-twenty he was a chief figure in German, even in European,
+literature; and from twenty-six to thirty-seven he published, we may
+say nothing. But though he ceased to astonish the world, he was well
+employed in widening the basis of his existence; in organizing his
+faculties; in conciliating passions, intellect, and will; in applying
+his mind to the real world; in endeavoring to comprehend it aright; in
+testing and training his powers by practical activity.
+
+A time came when he felt that his will and skill were mature; that he
+was no longer an apprentice in the art of living, but a master
+craftsman. Tasks that had grown irksome and were felt to be a
+distraction from higher duties, he now abandoned. Goethe fled for a time
+to Italy, there to receive his degree in the high school of life, and to
+start upon a course of more advanced studies. Thenceforward until his
+closing days the record is one of almost uninterrupted labor in his
+proper fields of literature, art, and science. "In Rome," he wrote, "I
+have for the first time found myself, for the first time come into
+harmony with myself, and grown happy and rational." He had found
+himself, because his passions and his intellect now co-operated; his
+pursuit of truth had all the ardor of a first love; his pursuit of
+beauty was not a fantastic chase, but was subject to rational law; and
+his effort after truth and his effort after beauty were alike supported
+by an adult will.
+
+His task, regarded as a whole, was to do over again the work of the
+Renascence. But whereas the Renascence had been a large national or
+European movement, advancing towards its ends partly through popular
+passions and a new enthusiasm, the work which Goethe accomplished was
+more an affair of intelligence, criticism, conscious self-direction. It
+was less of a flood sweeping away old dikes and dams, and more of a dawn
+quietly and gradually drawing back the borders of darkness and widening
+the skirts of light. A completely developed human being, for the uses of
+the world,--this was the ideal in which Goethe's thoughts centred, and
+towards which his most important writings constantly tend. A completely
+developed State or commonwealth should follow, as an ideal arising out
+of the needs and demands of a complete individual. Goethe knew that
+growth comes not by self-observation and self-analysis, but by exercise.
+Therefore he turned himself and would turn his disciples to action, to
+the objective world; and in order that this action may be profitable, it
+must be definite and within a limited sphere. He preaches
+self-renunciation; but the self-renunciation he commends is not
+self-mortification; it is the active self-abandonment of devotion to our
+appropriate work. Such is the teaching of 'Wilhelm Meister': it traces
+the progress of a youth far from extraordinary, yet having within him
+the capacity for growth, progress through a thousand errors and
+illusions, from splendid dreams to modest reality. Life is discovered by
+Wilhelm to be a difficult piece of scholarship. The cry for freedom in
+'Götz,' the limitless sigh of passion heard in 'Werther,' are heard no
+more. If freedom is to be attained, it can only be through obedience; if
+we are to "return to nature," it cannot be in Rousseau's way but through
+a wise art of living, an art not at odds with nature, but its
+complement:--
+
+  "This is an art which does mend nature--but
+  The art itself is nature."
+
+If we ask,--for this, after all, is the capital question of
+criticism,--What has Goethe done to make us better? the answer is: He
+has made each of us aspire and endeavor to be no fragment of manhood,
+but a man; he has taught us that to squander ourselves in vain desires
+is the road to spiritual poverty; that to discover our appropriate work,
+and to embody our passion in such work, is the way to true wealth; that
+such passion and such toil must be not servile, but glad and free; that
+the use of our intelligence is not chiefly to destroy, but to guide our
+activity in construction; and that in doing our best work we incorporate
+ourselves in the best possible way in the life of our fellows. Such
+lessons may seem obvious; but they had not been taught by Goethe's great
+predecessors, Voltaire and Rousseau. Goethe, unlike Voltaire, inculcates
+reverence and love; unlike Rousseau, he teaches us to see objects
+clearly as they are, he trains us to sanity. And Europe needed sanity in
+the days of Revolution and in the days which followed of Reaction.
+
+Sanity for the imagination Goethe found in classical art. The young
+leader of the Romantic revival in Germany resigned his leadership; he
+seemed to his contemporaries to have lost the fire and impulse of his
+youth; his work was found cold and formal. A great change had indeed
+taken place within him; but his ardor had only grown steadier and
+stronger, extending now to every part of his complex nature. The change
+was a transition from what is merely inward and personal to what is
+outward and general. Goethe cared less than formerly to fling out his
+private passions, and cared more to comprehend the world and human life
+and to interpret these through art. He did not go into bondage under the
+authority of the ancients; but he found their methods right, and he
+endeavored to work as they had worked. For a time the reaction carried
+him too far: in seeking for what is general, he sometimes passed on to
+what is abstract, and so was forced into the error of offering symbols
+to represent these abstractions, instead of bodying forth his ideas in
+imaginative creations. But in the noble drama of 'Iphigenie,' in the
+epic-idyll of 'Hermann und Dorothea,' and in many of the ballads written
+during his period of close companionship with Schiller, we have examples
+of art at once modern in sentiment and classical in method.
+
+Goethe's faith in the methods of classical art never passed away, but
+his narrow exclusiveness yielded. He became, with certain guiding
+principles which served as a control, a great eclectic, appropriating to
+his own uses whatever he perceived to be excellent. As in 'Hermann und
+Dorothea' he unites the influences of Greek art with true German
+feeling, so in his collection of short lyrics, the 'West-Östlicher
+Divan' (West-Eastern Divan), he brings together the genius of the Orient
+and that of the Western world, and sheds over both the spiritual
+illumination of the wisdom of his elder years. Gradually his creative
+powers waned, but he was still interested in all--except perhaps
+politics--that can concern the mind; he was still the greatest of
+critics, entering with his intelligence into everything and
+understanding everything, as nearly universal in his sympathies as a
+human mind can be. The Goethe of these elder years is seen to most
+advantage in the 'Conversations with Eckermann.'
+
+The most invulnerable of Goethe's writings are his lyrical poems;
+against the best of these, criticism can allege nothing. They need no
+interpreter. But the reader who studies them in chronological order will
+observe that as time went on, the lyric which is a spontaneous jet of
+feeling is replaced by the lyric in which there is constructive art and
+considerate evolution. In the poems of the 'West-Östlicher Divan' Goethe
+returns to the lyric of spontaneity, but their inspiration is rather
+that of a gracious wisdom, at once serious and playful, than of passion.
+
+His period of romance and sentiment is best represented by 'The Sorrows
+of Werther.' His adult wisdom of life is found most abundantly in
+'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' The world has long since agreed that
+if Goethe is to be represented by a single work, it shall be by 'Faust.'
+And even those who perceive that 'Faust' is best understood by being
+taken along with Goethe's other writings--his early 'Prometheus,' his
+autobiography, his travels in Italy, his classical dramas, his
+scientific studies, his work as a critic, his vast correspondence, his
+conversations in old age--cannot quarrel with the judgment of the world.
+
+'Faust,' if we include under that name the First and the Second Parts,
+is the work of Goethe's whole life. Begun and even far advanced in early
+manhood, it was taken up again in his midmost years, and was completed
+with a faltering hand in the closing season of his old age. What it
+loses in unity, or at least in harmonious development as a piece of art,
+it gains in autobiographical interest. All his works, Goethe said,
+constituted a great confession. More than any other of his writings,
+'Faust' is the confession of his life.
+
+There are two ways in which a reader may deal with 'Faust.' He may
+choose for his own delight a fragment, detach it and disregard the rest;
+he may view this fragment, if he pleases, as a whole, as a rounded work
+of art. Such a reader will refuse to pass beyond the First Part of the
+vast encyclopædic poem. To do this is legitimate. The earliest form in
+which we possess the drama, that of the transcript made by Fräulein von
+Göchhausen, is a tragedy which might be named 'The Tragedy of Margaret.'
+Possibilities of further development lay in the subject, were indeed
+required by the subject, and Goethe had probably already conceived
+certain of them; yet the stadium in the progress of Faust's history
+included in 'The Tragedy of Margaret' had a unity in itself. But a
+reader may approach 'Faust' otherwise; he may view it as expressing the
+complete mind of Goethe on some of the deepest problems of human life.
+Viewing it thus, he must accept the whole work as Goethe has given it;
+he must hold in abeyance, at least for a time, his own particular
+likings and dislikes. While keeping his mind open to all the poetry of
+Faust, he will soon discover that here is something more than a poem. It
+may be unfortunate for the work of art that it belongs, certainly in its
+execution, possibly even in the growth of its conception, to far
+sundered periods of its author's career, when his feelings respecting
+art were different, when his capacity for rendering his ideas was now
+more and now less adequate. Such a reader, however, would part with
+nothing: in what is admirable he finds the master's hand; in what is
+feeble he discovers the same hand, but faltering, and pathetic in its
+infirmity. He is interested in 'Faust' not solely or chiefly as 'The
+Tragedy of Margaret': he finds in it the intellect, the character, the
+life of Goethe; it is a repository of the deepest thoughts and feelings
+concerning human existence of a wise seer, a repository in which he laid
+by those thoughts and feelings during sixty years of his mortal
+wayfaring.
+
+From early manhood to extreme old age 'Faust' was with Goethe, receiving
+now and again, in Frankfort, in Weimar, in Rome, some new accession. We
+can distinguish the strata or formations of youth, of manhood, and of
+the closing years. We recognize by their diversities of style those
+parts which were written when creation was swift and almost involuntary,
+a passion and a joy, and those parts through which Goethe labored at an
+old man's pace, accomplishing to-day a hand's-breadth, to-morrow perhaps
+less, and binding blank pages into his manuscript, that the sight of the
+gaps might irritate him to produce. What unity can such a work possess,
+except that which comes from the fact that it all proceeded from a
+single mind, and that some main threads of thought--for it would be rash
+to speak of a ground idea--run through the several parts and bind them
+together? 'Faust' has not the unity of a lake whose circuit the eye can
+contemplate, a crystal set among the hills. Its unity is that of a
+river, rising far away in mountain solitudes, winding below many a
+mirrored cliff, passing the habitations of men, temple and mart, fields
+of rural toil and fields of war, reaching it may be dull levels, and
+forgetting the bright speed it had, until at last the dash of waves is
+heard, and its course is accomplished; but from first to last one
+stream, proceeding from a single source. Tourists may pick out a
+picturesque fragment of its wanderings, and this is well; but perhaps it
+is better to find the poetry of its entire career, from its cloudy
+cradle to the flats where it loses itself in the ocean.
+
+The first part of 'Faust' is itself the work of more periods than one.
+The original conception may belong to Goethe's student days at
+Strassburg. He had grown weary of the four Faculties,--alas, even of
+theology; he had known a maiden as fair and sweet and simple as
+Gretchen, and he had left her widowed of her first love; and there in
+Strassburg was the presence of that old Cathedral, which inspired so
+terrible a scene in the 'Faust.' From Strassburg he returned to
+Frankfort, and no moments of his career of authorship were more fruitful
+than these which preceded the first Weimar years. It was in the heart of
+the Storm and Stress; it was the time of 'Götz' and 'Mahomet' and the
+'Wandering Jew' and 'Werther' and 'Prometheus.' Here in Faust was
+another and a nobler Werther seeking the infinite; here was another
+Prometheus, a Titan shackled yet unsubduable. By Goethe's twenty-sixth
+year the chief portions of the 'Faust, a Fragment,' published when he
+was forty-one, had been written. But two scenes were added in Rome,--one
+of these strange in its fantasy, the Witches' Kitchen,--as if to show
+that the poet of the North was not quite enslaved by the beauty of
+classic art. It was in the last decade of the eighteenth century that
+Schiller succeeded in persuading Goethe to open his Faust papers, and
+try to recover the threads of his design. Not until 1808, Goethe's
+fifty-ninth year, was the First Part published as we now possess it. It
+is therefore incorrect to speak of this Part as the work of the author's
+youth; even here a series of strata belonging to different periods can
+be distinguished, and critics have contended that even in this Part may
+be discovered two schemes or plans not wholly in harmony each with the
+other.
+
+The first Fragment was written, as has been said, in the spirit of the
+Storm and Stress. Goethe was weary of the four Faculties. The magic work
+of the time which was to restore vigor and joy to men was _Nature_. This
+is the theme of the opening scene of 'Faust.' Among old instruments and
+dusty folios and ancestral lumber and brute skeletons, away from Nature
+and her living founts of inspiration, the old scholar has found neither
+joy nor true knowledge. He opens the book of Nostradamus and gazes upon
+the sign of the Macrocosm; here in a symbol he beholds the life and
+energy of nature:--
+
+  "Where shall I grasp thee, infinite Nature, where?
+  Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life whereon
+  Hang heaven and earth."
+
+He cannot grasp them; and then turning from the great Cosmos, he thinks
+he may at least dare to invoke the spirit of our own mother planet
+Earth. But to Faust, with eyes bleared with the dust of the study, to
+Faust, living in his own speculations or in dogmatic systems, the aspect
+of the Earth Spirit--a living fire--is terrible. He falls back upon
+himself almost despairing, when the famulus Wagner enters. What Werner
+was to the idealist Wilhelm Meister, Wagner is to the idealist Faust:
+the mere scraping together of a little hoard of barren facts contents
+Wagner; such grief, such despair as Faust's, are for this Philistine of
+learning impossible. And then the fragment of 1790 passes on to
+Mephistopheles. Whether or not Goethe found the features of his critical
+demon in Herder (as Grimm supposes), and afterwards united these to the
+more pronounced likeness in his friend Mephistopheles Merck, matters
+little. Whether Herder and Merck had been present or not, Goethe would
+have found Mephistopheles in his own heart. For the contrast between the
+idealist Faust and the realist Mephistopheles exists in some form or
+other in almost every great creation of Goethe. It is the contrast
+between Werther and Albert, between Tasso and Antonio, between Edward
+and the Captain. Sometimes the nobler spirit of worldliness is dwelt on,
+as in the case of Antonio; sometimes the cold, hard, cynical side, as in
+the case of Mephistopheles. The theme of Faust as originally conceived
+was the turning of an idealist from his own private thoughts and dreams
+to the real world; from all that is unnatural,--systems, speculations,
+barren knowledge,--to nature and the founts of life; from the solitary
+cell to the company of men; to action, beauty, life, and love. If he
+can really succeed in achieving this wisely and well, Faust is saved. He
+is delivered from solitude, the inane of speculation, the vagueness of
+idealism, and made one with the band of his toiling fellows. But to
+accompany him there is the spirit of base worldliness, the realist, the
+cynic, who sees the meaner side of all that is actual, who if possible
+will seduce Faust into accepting the world apart from that elevating
+spirit which ennobles actual life, who will try to baffle and degrade
+Faust by degrading all that he now seeks,--action and beauty and life
+and love.
+
+It is Goethe himself who is at odds with himself,--the realist Goethe
+set over against the idealist Goethe; and Mephistopheles is the base
+realist, the cynic whose endeavor is to mar the union of high poetry and
+high prose in human life, which union of high poetry with high prose
+Goethe always looked upon as the true condition of man's activity. In
+the Prologue in Heaven, written when Schiller had persuaded Goethe to
+take up the threads of his play, the Lord speaks of Faust as his
+servant. Mephistopheles wagers that he will seduce Faust from his
+allegiance to the Highest. The Lord does not wager; he _knows_:--
+
+  "Though now he serve me in a maze of doubt,
+    Yet I will lead him soon where all is clear;
+  The gardener knows, when first the bushes sprout,
+    That bloom and fruit will deck the riper year."
+
+These vague passionate longings of Faust after truth and reality and
+life and love are not evil; they are good: they are as yet indeed but
+the sprouting of the immature leaf and bud, but the Lord sees in these
+the fruit that is to be. Therefore let Mephistopheles, the spirit of
+negation, try his worst, and at the last discover how an earnest
+striver's ways are justified by God. Faust may wander, err, fall,
+grievously offend,--"as long as man lives, man errs;" but for him who
+ever strives upward, through all his errors, there is redemption in the
+end.
+
+The poem belongs to its epoch. Faust is the idealist, Mephistopheles is
+the realist, of the eighteenth century. Faust aspires to nature and
+freedom like one who had drunk deeply of Rousseau. Mephistopheles speaks
+like a degraded disciple of Voltaire, who has lost his master's positive
+faith in the human reason. Goethe can accept as his own neither the
+position of Voltaire nor that of Rousseau; but actually he started in
+life as an antagonist of Voltaire and a disciple of Rousseau, and in
+like manner his Faust starts on his career as one who longs for a
+"return to nature." While from merely negative criticism nothing
+virtuous can be born, the vague longings of one who loves and hopes
+promise measureless good.
+
+Faust's vast aspirations, then, are not sinful; they only need to be
+limited and directed to suitable ends. It is as God's servant that he
+goes forth with the Demon from his study to the world. And
+Mephistopheles's first attempt to degrade Faust is a failure. In the
+orgy of Auerbach's cellar, while the boisterous young bloods clash their
+glasses, the old scholar sits silent, isolated, ashamed. It is only by
+infecting his blood with the witch's poison that Mephistopheles can lay
+hold of the spirit of Faust even for a time; and had he not seen in the
+mirror that vision of Helena, whom he rightly loves, and whom indeed he
+needs, he could not have put to his lips the filthy brewage of the
+witch. But now indeed he is snared; the poison rages in his veins; for
+one hour he is transformed into what the world basely calls a man of
+pleasure. Yet Faust is not wholly lost: his better self, the untrained,
+untamed idealist, begins to reassert its power; the fumes of the poison
+dissipate themselves. Guilty though he be, his love of Margaret is not
+what Mephistopheles requires that it should be: it is not calculating,
+egoistic, cynical, nor dull, easeful, and lethargic. It is not the crime
+of an experienced worldling nor of a dull, low liver: it is the crime of
+one whose unwise heart and untaught imagination delude him; and
+therefore though his fall be deep, it is not fatal. The wrong he has
+wrought may be blind and terrible as that of Othello to Desdemona; but
+it is not the serpentine stinging of an Iago or a Mephistopheles.
+
+So through anguish and remorse Faust is doing off the swathe-bands of
+delusion, learning to master his will, learning his own heart, learning
+the meaning of existence: he does not part from his ideal self, his high
+aspirations, his ardent hopes; he is rather transforming these into
+realities; he is advancing from dreams to facts, so that in the end,
+when his life becomes a lofty prose, it may be interpenetrated by a
+noble poetry.
+
+It were long to trace the history of Faust through the ever purifying
+and ascending scale of energies exhibited in the Second Part of the
+drama. Affairs of State, science, art, war--all that Goethe had known by
+experience--appear in this encyclopædic poem. One word, however, must be
+said respecting the 'Helena.' It is a mistake to view this central
+portion of the Second Part as solely or chiefly an allegory of the
+wedlock of classic and romantic art. As science is shown to form a
+needful part of Faust's turning from the inane of metaphysics to the
+positive world, so from the Greek spirit he learns sanity and strength;
+the deliverance of the ideal man in Faust is aided by the beauty and the
+healthfulness of classic art. Through beauty, as Schiller tried to show
+in his letters on 'Æsthetic Culture,' we attain to freedom. Faust is not
+an artist, but a _man_; Helena is but one of the spirits whose influence
+is needed to make him real and elevated. It is she who qualifies him
+for achieving practical work in a high, ideal spirit.
+
+The Fourth Act of the Second Part is wholly concerned with practical
+work. What is this which engages the student of the metaphysic cell, who
+had gone through the four Faculties, and is now once again grown old?
+What is this? Only well-defined and useful activity. He has rescued some
+acres of arable land from the rage of the barren sea.
+
+But Faust is not yet wholly delivered from evil; his activity is useful,
+indeed, but it lacks the finer grace of charity. He commissions
+Mephistopheles to destroy the cottage of old Philemon and Baucis, which
+stands in the way of his territorial improvements. It is the last crime
+of the unregenerate will. The four gray women--Care and Blame and Want
+and Crime--now assail him; but there is virtue in him to the last.
+However it may be with himself, grant only that ages hence the children
+of men, free and happy, may dwell upon the soil which he has saved for
+their place of labor and of love,--grant but this, and even in the
+anticipation of it he is made possessor of the highest bliss. Nor indeed
+is higher permitted to man on earth. And now that Faust has at last
+found satisfaction, and said to the passing moment, "Stay, thou art so
+fair," the time has come for Mephistopheles to claim his soul. But in
+this very aspiration after the perfect joy of others--not his own--Faust
+is forever delivered from the Evil One. The gray old man lies stretched
+upon the sand. Higher powers than those of his own will take him, guard
+him, lead him forward. The messengers of God bear away his immortal
+part. All Holy Hermits, all Holy Innocents, all Holy Virgins, the less
+and the greater Angels, and redeemed women who have sinned and sorrowed
+and have been purified, aid in his ultimate purification. It is the same
+thought which was interpreted in a lower key when Wilhelm Meister's fate
+was intrusted to Natalia. Usefulness is good; activity is good: but over
+all these should soar and brood the Divine graces of life, and love the
+chief of these. That which leads us farther than all the rest is what
+Goethe names "the imperishable womanly grace," that of love. And so the
+great mystery-play reaches its close.
+
+                                          [Signature: Edward Dowden]
+
+    BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born at
+    Frankfort-on-the-Main, August 28th, 1749; he attended the
+    University of Leipzig 1765-1768, and went to Strassburg in
+    1770, where he met Herder, made the acquaintance of
+    Shakespeare, and in 1771 took his degree. 'Götz von
+    Berlichingen' in 1773 announced the dawn of a new era in
+    German letters, and in 1774 'The Sorrows of Werther' made the
+    poet world-famous. In 1775 Goethe accepted the invitation of
+    Duke Carl August and went to Weimar, which remained
+    thenceforth his home. The Italian journey, marking an epoch in
+    the poet's life, took place in 1786-1787. The 'Faust Fragment'
+    appeared in 1790. The friendship with Schiller, also of
+    far-reaching importance in Goethe's life, began in 1794 and
+    was terminated only by Schiller's death in 1805. 'Hermann and
+    Dorothea' was published in 1797. In 1806 Goethe married
+    Christiane Vulpius. The First Part of 'Faust' appeared in
+    1808;--in 1816 the poet is at work upon his 'Autobiography'
+    and the 'Italian Journey'; the first part of 'Wilhelm
+    Meister's Apprenticeship' appeared in 1821, and was completed
+    in 1829. 'Faust' was finished on July 20th, 1831. Goethe died
+    at Weimar on March 22d, 1832.
+
+
+
+FROM 'FAUST'
+
+CHORUS OF THE ARCHANGELS; FROM THE PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN
+
+Shelley's Translation
+
+
+  _Raphael_--
+                  The sun makes music as of old
+                    Amid the rival spheres of heaven,
+                  On its predestined circle rolled
+                    With thunder speed; the angels even
+                  Draw strength from gazing on its glance,
+                    Though none its meaning fathom may
+                  The world's unwithered countenance
+                    Is bright as at creation's day.
+
+  _Gabriel_--
+                  And swift and swift with rapid lightness
+                    The adorned earth spins silently,
+                  Alternating Elysian brightness
+                    With deep and dreadful night; the sea
+                  Foams in broad billows from the deep
+                    Up to the rocks, and rocks and ocean,
+                  Onward, with spheres which never sleep,
+                    Are hurried in eternal motion.
+  _Michael_--
+                  And tempests in contention roar
+                    From land to sea, from sea to land;
+                  And raging, weave a chain of power,
+                    Which girds the earth as with a band.
+                  A flashing desolation there
+                    Flames before the thunder's way;
+                  But thy servants, Lord, revere
+                    The gentle changes of thy day.
+
+  CHORUS OF THE THREE
+
+                  The angels draw strength from thy glance,
+                    Though no one comprehend thee may;
+                  Thy world's unwithered countenance
+                    Is bright as on creation's day.
+
+
+
+SCENES FROM 'FAUST'
+
+Translated by Bayard Taylor
+
+    All the following selections from 'Faust' are from Taylor's
+    translation. Copyright 1870, by Bayard Taylor, and reprinted
+    here by permission of and special agreement with Mrs. Taylor,
+    and Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers, Boston.
+
+
+FAUST AND WAGNER
+
+  FAUST
+
+      Oh, happy he, who still renews
+        The hope from Error's deeps to rise forever!
+      That which one does not know, one needs to use,
+        And what one knows, one uses never.
+      But let us not, by such despondence, so
+        The fortune of this hour embitter!
+      Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,
+        The green-embosomed houses glitter!
+      The glow retreats; done is the day of toil;
+        It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;
+      Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil,
+        Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!
+      Then would I see eternal Evening gild
+        The silent world beneath me glowing,
+  On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,
+      The silver brook to golden rivers flowing.
+      The mountain chain, with all its gorges deep,
+    Would then no more impede my godlike motion;
+    And now before mine eyes expands the ocean
+        With all its bays, in shining sleep!
+      Yet finally the weary god is sinking;
+        The new-born impulse fires my mind.--
+        I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking.
+          The Day before me and the Night behind.
+  Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,--
+         A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.
+         Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid
+      Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me.
+           Yet in each soul is born the pleasure
+         Of yearning onward, upward and away.
+      When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,
+           The lark sends down his flickering lay,
+           When over crags and piny highlands
+             The poising eagle slowly soars,
+           And over plains and lakes and islands
+             The crane sails by to other shores.
+
+  WAGNER
+
+      I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices,
+      But never yet such impulse felt, as this is.
+      One soon fatigues on woods and fields to look,
+        Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:
+        How otherwise the mental raptures bear us
+          From page to page, from book to book!
+        Then winter nights take loveliness untold,
+     As warmer life in every limb had crowned you;
+  And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,
+     All heaven descends, and opens bright around you!
+
+  FAUST
+
+      One impulse art thou conscious of, at best;
+         Oh, never seek to know the other!
+      Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,
+    And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.
+      One with tenacious organs holds in love
+    And clinging lust the world in its embraces;
+      The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,
+            Into the high ancestral spaces.
+            If there be airy spirits near,
+    'Twixt heaven and earth on potent errands fleeing,
+       Let them drop down the golden atmosphere,
+    And bear me forth to new and varied being!
+       Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine,
+          To waft me o'er the world at pleasure,
+     I would not for the costliest stores of treasure--
+       Not for a monarch's robe--the gift resign.
+
+
+FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?
+        When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor.
+        E'er understood by such as thou?
+  Yet hast thou food which never satiates now:
+        The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,
+  That runs quicksilver-like one's fingers through;
+  A game whose winnings no man ever knew;
+        A maid that even from my breast
+  Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,
+            And Honor's godlike zest,
+       The meteor that a moment dances,--
+    Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,
+  And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+        Such a demand alarms me not:
+      Such treasures have I, and can show them.
+  But still the time may reach us, good my friend,
+    When peace we crave, and more luxurious diet.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet,
+        There let at once my record end!
+      Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,
+        Until self-pleased myself I see,--
+      Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,
+        Let that day be the last for me!
+  The bet I offer.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                Done!
+
+  FAUST
+
+                      And heartily!
+  When thus I hail the Moment flying:
+    "Ah, still delay--thou art so fair!"--
+  Then bind me in thy bonds undying,
+    My final ruin then declare!
+  Then let the death-bell chime the token,
+    Then art thou from thy service free!
+  The clock may stop, the hand be broken,
+    Then Time be finished unto me!
+
+
+FOREST AND CAVERN
+
+  FAUST [_alone_]
+
+  Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
+  For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain
+  Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.
+  Thou gav'st me nature as a kingdom grand,
+  With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou
+  Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st,
+  But grantest that in her profoundest breast
+  I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.
+  The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead
+  Before me, teaching me to know my brothers
+  In air and water and the silent wood.
+  And when the storm in forests roars and grinds,
+  The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs
+  And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down,
+  And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,--
+  Then to the cave secure thou leadest me,
+  Then show'st me mine own self, and in my breast
+  The deep mysterious miracles unfold.
+  And when the perfect moon before my gaze
+  Comes up with soothing light, around me float
+  From every precipice and thicket damp
+  The silvery phantoms of the ages past,
+  And temper the austere delight of thought.
+
+  That nothing can be perfect unto Man
+  I now am conscious. With this ecstasy,
+  Which brings me near and nearer to the gods,
+  Thou gav'st the comrade, whom I now no more
+  Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he
+  Demeans me to myself, and with a breath,
+  A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness.
+  Within my breast he fans a lawless fire,
+  Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form:
+  Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment,
+  And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.
+
+  MARGARET [_At the spinning-wheel, alone_]
+
+  My peace is gone,
+  My heart is sore:
+  I never shall find it,
+  Ah, nevermore!
+
+  Save I have him near,
+  The grave is here;
+  The world is gall
+  And bitterness all.
+
+  My poor weak head
+    Is racked and crazed;
+  My thought is lost,
+    My senses mazed.
+
+  My peace is gone,
+    My heart is sore:
+  I never shall find it,
+    Ah, nevermore!
+
+  To see him, him only,
+    At the pane I sit;
+  To meet him, him only,
+    The house I quit.
+
+  His lofty gait,
+    His noble size,
+  The smile of his mouth,
+    The power of his eyes,
+
+  And the magic flow
+    Of his talk, the bliss
+  In the clasp of his hand,
+    And ah! his kiss!
+
+  My peace is gone,
+    My heart is sore:
+  I never shall find it,
+    Ah, nevermore!
+
+  My bosom yearns
+    For him alone;
+  Ah, dared I clasp him,
+    And hold, and own!
+
+  And kiss his mouth
+    To heart's desire,
+  And on his kisses
+    At last expire!
+
+
+MARTHA'S GARDEN
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Promise me, Henry!--
+
+  FAUST
+
+  What I can!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+    How is't with thy religion, pray?
+  Thou art a dear, good-hearted man,
+    And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Leave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender;
+  For love, my blood and life would I surrender,
+  And as for faith and church, I grant to each his own.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  That's not enough: we must believe thereon.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Must we?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              Would that I had some influence!
+  Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  I honor them.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+                  Desiring no possession.
+  'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession.
+  Believest thou in God?
+
+  FAUST
+
+                  My darling, who shall dare
+  "I believe in God!" to say?
+    Ask priest or sage the answer to declare,
+        And it will seem a mocking play,
+  A sarcasm on the asker.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+                     Then thou believest not!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance!
+            Who dare express Him?
+            And who profess Him,
+          Saying: I believe in Him!
+            Who, feeling, seeing,
+            Deny His being,
+          Saying: I believe Him not!
+            The All-enfolding,
+            The All-upholding,
+          Folds and upholds he not
+            Thee, me, Himself?
+    Arches not there the sky above us?
+    Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth?
+        And rise not, on us shining
+        Friendly, the everlasting stars?
+        Look I not, eye to eye, on thee,
+        And feel'st not, thronging
+        To head and heart, the force,
+        Still weaving its eternal secret,
+        Invisible, visible, round thy life?
+    Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart,
+  And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art,
+        Call it, then, what thou wilt,--
+      Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!--
+        I have no name to give it!
+             Feeling is all in all:
+        The Name is sound and smoke,
+        Obscuring Heaven's clear glow.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  All that is fine and good, to hear it so:
+  Much the same way the preacher spoke,
+  Only with slightly different phrases.
+
+  FAUST
+
+            The same thing, in all places,
+  All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day--
+    Each in its language--say;
+  Then why not I in mine as well?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  To hear it thus, it may seem passable;
+  And yet some hitch in't there must be,
+  For thou hast no Christianity.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Dear love!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              I've long been grieved to see
+  That thou art in such company.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  How so?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              The man who with thee goes, thy mate,
+    Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate.
+          In all my life there's nothing
+  Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing
+      As his repulsive face has done.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  I feel his presence like something ill.
+  I've else, for all, a kindly will,
+  But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth,
+  The secret horror of him returneth;
+  And I think the man a knave, as I live!
+  If I do him wrong, may God forgive!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  There must be such queer birds, however.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+    Live with the like of him may I never!
+    When once inside the door comes he,
+    He looks around so sneeringly,
+            And half in wrath:
+  One sees that in nothing no interest he hath:
+  'Tis written on his very forehead
+  That love, to him, is a thing abhorred.
+  I am so happy on thine arm,
+  So free, so yielding, and so warm,
+  And in his presence stifled seems my heart.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Foreboding angel that thou art!
+
+
+IN THE DUNGEON
+
+    _In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater
+    Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it_
+
+  MARGARET [_Putting fresh flowers in the pots_]
+
+            Incline, O Maiden,
+            Thou sorrow-laden,
+  Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!
+
+            The sword thy heart in,
+            With anguish smarting,
+  Thou lookest up to where thy Son is slain!
+
+            Thou seest the Father;
+            The sad sighs gather,
+  And bear aloft thy sorrow and his pain!
+
+            Ah, past guessing,
+            Beyond expressing,
+  The pangs that wring my flesh and bone!
+    Why this anxious heart so burneth,
+    Why it trembleth, why it yearneth,
+  Knowest thou, and thou alone!
+
+    Where'er I go, what sorrow,
+    What woe, what woe and sorrow
+      Within my bosom aches!
+    Alone, and ah! unsleeping,
+    I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,--
+      The heart within me breaks.
+
+    The pots before my window,
+      Alas! my tears did wet,
+    As in the early morning
+      For thee these flowers I set.
+    Within my lonely chamber
+      The morning sun shone red:
+    I sat in utter sorrow,
+      Already on my bed.
+
+  Help! rescue me from death and stain!
+                  O Maiden!
+                Thou sorrow-laden,
+  Incline thy countenance upon my pain!
+
+
+IN THE DUNGEON
+
+  FAUST
+
+  _With a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_
+
+  A shudder, long unfelt, comes o'er me;
+  Mankind's collected woe o'erwhelms me here.
+  She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me,
+        And all her crime was a delusion dear!
+            What! I delay to free her?
+            I dread, once again to see her?
+  On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near.
+
+       [_He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside._]
+
+       _My mother the harlot,
+         Who put me to death;
+       My father the varlet,
+         Who eaten me hath!
+       Little sister, so good,
+       Laid my bones in the wood,
+     In the damp moss and clay:
+  Then was I a beautiful bird o' the wood:
+       Fly away! Fly away!_
+
+  FAUST [_unlocking_]
+
+        She does not dream her lover listens near;
+  That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear.
+
+  MARGARET [_hiding herself on the pallet_]
+
+  Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!
+
+  FAUST [_whispering_]
+
+  Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee.
+
+  MARGARET [_throwing herself before him_]
+
+  Art thou a man? then pity my distress!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee!
+
+                     [_He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them._
+
+  MARGARET [_on her knees_]
+
+  Who, headsman! unto thee such power
+        Over me could give?
+  Thou'rt come for me at midnight hour:
+      Have mercy on me; let me live!
+  Is't not soon enough when morning chime has rung?
+                                                       [_She rises._
+      And I am yet so young, so young!
+      And now death comes, and ruin!
+    I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing.
+      My love was near, but now he's far;
+  Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are.
+      Seize me not thus so violently!
+    Spare me! What have I done to thee?
+      Let me not vainly entreat thee!
+  I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Shall I outlive this misery?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+        Now am I wholly in thy might.
+              But let me suckle, first, my baby!
+        I blissed it all this livelong night;
+              They took 't away, to vex me, maybe,
+        And now they say I killed the child outright.
+            And never shall I be glad again.
+  They sing songs about me! 'tis bad of the folk to do it!
+        There's an old story has the same refrain;
+            Who bade them so construe it?
+
+  FAUST [_falling upon his knees_]
+
+  Here lieth one who loves thee ever,
+  The thraldom of thy woe to sever.
+
+  MARGARET [_flinging herself beside him_]
+
+  Oh let us kneel, and call the saints to hide us!
+            Under the steps beside us,
+            The threshold under,
+            Hell heaves in thunder!
+            The Evil One
+            With terrible wrath
+            Seeketh a path
+            His prey to discover!
+
+  FAUST [_aloud_]
+
+  Margaret! Margaret!
+
+  MARGARET [_attentively listening_]
+
+  That was the voice of my lover!
+
+                   [_She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off._
+
+        Where is he? I heard him call me.
+        I am free! No one shall enthrall me.
+              To his neck will I fly,
+              On his bosom lie!
+  On the threshold he stood, and _Margaret!_ calling,
+  'Midst of hell's howling and noises appalling,
+  'Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision,
+  I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  'Tis I!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  'Tis thou! O, say it once again!
+                                                    [_Clasping him._
+  'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?
+  The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain?
+      'Tis thou! Thou comest to save me,
+                  And I am saved!
+              Again the street I see
+              Where first I looked on thee;
+    And the garden, brightly blooming,
+    Where I and Martha wait thy coming.
+
+  FAUST [_struggling to leave_]
+
+  Come! Come with me!
+
+  [Illustration: _FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON._
+  Photogravure from a Drawing by A. Leisen-Mayer.]
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              Delay, now!
+  So fain I stay, when thou delayest!
+                                                   [_Caressing him._
+
+  FAUST
+
+              Away, now!
+        If longer here thou stayest,
+  We shall be made to dearly rue it.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+         Kiss me!--canst no longer do it?
+      My friend, so short a time thou 'rt missing,
+        And hast unlearned thy kissing?
+      Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast?
+    Where once a heaven thy glances did create me,
+      A heaven thy loving words expressed,
+  And thou didst kiss as thou wouldst suffocate me--
+                      Kiss me!
+                  Or I'll kiss thee!
+                                                [_She embraces him._
+  Ah, woe! thy lips are chill,
+      And still.
+  How changed in fashion
+      Thy passion!
+  Who has done me this ill?
+                                         [_She turns away from him._
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold:
+  I'll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousandfold;
+        But follow now! 'Tis all I beg of thee.
+
+  MARGARET [_turning to him_]
+
+  And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?
+
+  FAUST
+
+  'Tis I! Come on!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+                      Thou wilt unloose my chain,
+  And in thy lap wilt take me once again.
+  How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?--
+  Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak'st free?
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Come! come! The night already vanisheth.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      My mother have I put to death;
+      I've drowned the baby born to thee.
+      Was it not given to thee and me?
+  Thee, too!--'Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem--
+      Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream!
+      Thy dear, dear hand!--But, ah, 'tis wet!
+      Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet
+            There's blood thereon.
+          Ah, God! what hast thou done?
+          Nay, sheathe thy sword at last!
+            Do not affray me!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Oh, let the past be past!
+    Thy words will slay me!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      No, no! Thou must outlive us.
+  Now I'll tell thee the graves to give us:
+      Thou must begin to-morrow
+          The work of sorrow!
+      The best place give to my mother,
+      Then close at her side my brother,
+          And me a little away,
+      But not too very far, I pray!
+  And here, on my right breast, my baby lay!
+      Nobody else will lie beside me!--
+      Ah, within thine arms to hide me,
+  That was a sweet and a gracious bliss,
+  But no more, no more can I attain it!
+  I would force myself on thee and constrain it,
+      And it seems thou repellest my kiss:
+      And yet 'tis thou, so good, so kind to see!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  If thou feelest it is I, then come with me!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Out yonder?
+
+  FAUST
+
+  To freedom.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      If the grave is there,
+    Death lying in wait, then come!
+    From here to eternal rest:
+    No further step--no, no!
+  Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  I dare not go: there's no hope any more.
+  Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay!
+  It is so wretched, forced to beg my living,
+  And a bad conscience sharper misery giving!
+  It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken,
+  And I'd still be followed and taken!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  I'll stay with thee.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      Be quick! Be quick!
+      Save thy perishing child!
+      Away! Follow the ridge
+      Up by the brook,
+      Over the bridge,
+      Into the wood,
+  To the left, where the plank is placed
+      In the pool!
+      Seize it in haste!
+      'Tis trying to rise,
+      'Tis struggling still!
+      Save it! Save it!
+
+  FAUST
+
+      Recall thy wandering will!
+  One step, and thou art free at last!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      If the mountain we had only passed!
+      There sits my mother upon a stone,--
+          I feel an icy shiver!
+      There sits my mother upon a stone,
+        And her head is wagging ever.
+  She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o'er;
+      She slept so long that she wakes no more.
+        She slept, while we were caressing:
+        Ah, those were the days of blessing!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Here words and prayers are nothing worth;
+  I'll venture, then, to bear thee forth.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  No--let me go! I'll suffer no force!
+  Grasp me not so murderously!
+  I've done, else, all things for the love of thee.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Day? Yes, the day comes,--the last day breaks for me!
+          My wedding day it was to be!
+      Tell no one thou hast been with Margaret!
+        Woe for my garland! The chances
+          Are over--'tis all in vain!
+          We shall meet once again,
+            But not at the dances!
+      The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken:
+              The square below
+          And the streets overflow:
+      The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken.
+      I am seized, and bound, and delivered--
+         Shoved to the block--they give the sign!
+      Now over each neck has quivered
+        The blade that is quivering over mine.
+          Dumb lies the world like the grave!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Oh, had I ne'er been born!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_appears outside_]
+
+      Off! or you're lost ere morn.
+  Useless talking, delaying, and praying!
+  My horses are neighing:
+  The morning twilight is near.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  What rises up from the threshold here?
+      He! he! suffer him not!
+  What does he want in this holy spot?
+  He seeks me!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Thou shalt live.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Judgment of God! myself to thee I give.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_to Faust_]
+
+  Come! or I'll leave her in the lurch, and thee!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Thine am I, Father! rescue me!
+  Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me,
+  Camp around, and from evil ward me!
+  Henry! I shudder to think of thee.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  She is judged!
+
+  VOICE [_from above_]
+
+  She is saved!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_to Faust_]
+
+  Hither to me!
+                                        [_He disappears with Faust._
+
+  VOICE [_from within, dying away_]
+
+  Henry! Henry!
+
+
+THE DEATH OF FOUST
+
+  LEMURES [_Digging with mocking gestures_]
+
+  In youth when I did love, did love,
+    Methought it was very sweet;
+  When 'twas jolly and merry every way,
+    And I blithely moved my feet.
+
+  But now old Age, with his stealing steps,
+    Hath clawed me with his crutch:
+  I stumbled over the door of a grave;
+    Why leave they open such?
+
+  FAUST [_Comes forth from the palace, groping his way along the
+  door-posts_]
+
+  How I rejoice to hear the clattering spade!
+    It is the crowd, for me in service moiling,
+  Till Earth be reconciled to toiling,
+  Till the proud waves be stayed,
+    And the sea girded with a rigid zone.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_aside_]
+
+  And yet thou'rt laboring for us alone,
+    With all thy dikes and bulwarks daring;
+    Since thou for Neptune art preparing--
+  The Ocean Devil--carousal great.
+    In every way shall ye be stranded;
+    The elements with us are banded,
+  And ruin is the certain fate.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Overseer!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                Here!
+
+  FAUST
+
+                    However possible,
+    Collect a crowd of men with vigor,
+    Spur by indulgence, praise, or rigor,--
+    Reward, allure, conscript, compel!
+  Each day report me, and correctly note
+  How grows in length the undertaken moat.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_half aloud_]
+
+  When they to me the information gave,
+  They spake not of a moat, but of--_a grave_.
+
+  FAUST
+
+    Below the hills a marshy plain
+  Infects what I so long have been retrieving;
+    This stagnant pool likewise to drain
+  Were now my latest and my best achieving.
+  To many millions let me furnish soil,
+  Though not secure, yet free to active toil;
+  Green, fertile fields, where men and herds go forth
+  At once, with comfort, on the newest earth,
+  And swiftly settled on the hill's firm base,
+  Created by the bold, industrious race.
+  A land like Paradise here, round about;
+  Up to the brink the tide may roar without,
+  And though it gnaw, to burst with force the limit,
+  By common impulse all unite to hem it.
+  Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence;
+    The last result of wisdom stamps it true:
+  He only earns his freedom and existence
+    Who daily conquers them anew.
+  Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away
+  Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day:
+  And such a throng I fain would see,--
+  Stand on free soil among a people free!
+  Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing:
+    "_Ah, still delay--thou art so fair!_"
+  The traces cannot, of mine earthly being,
+    In æons perish,--they are there!
+  In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss,
+  I now enjoy the highest Moment,--this!
+                            [_Faust sinks back: the Lemures take him
+                            and lay him upon the ground._]
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  No joy could sate him, and suffice no bliss!
+    To catch but shifting shapes was his endeavor:
+  The latest, poorest, emptiest Moment--this,--
+    He wished to hold it fast forever.
+  Me he resisted in such vigorous wise,
+  But Time is lord, on earth the old man lies.
+  The clock stands still--
+
+  CHORUS
+
+              Stands still! silent as midnight, now!
+  The index falls.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  It falls; and it is finished, here!
+
+  CHORUS
+
+  'Tis past!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+              Past! a stupid word.
+              If past, then why?
+  Past and pure Naught, complete monotony!
+  What good for us, this endlessly creating?--
+  What is created then annihilating?
+  "And now it's past!" Why read a page so twisted?
+  'Tis just the same as if it ne'er existed,
+  Yet goes in circles round as if it had, however:
+  I'd rather choose, instead, the Void forever.
+
+
+THE SALVATION OF FAUST
+
+  ANGELS [_Soaring in the higher atmosphere, bearing the immortal part
+  of Faust_]
+
+  The noble spirit now is free,
+    And saved from evil scheming:
+  Whoe'er aspires unweariedly
+    Is not beyond redeeming.
+  And if he feels the grace of love
+    That from on high is given,
+  The blessed hosts, that wait above,
+    Shall welcome him to heaven!
+
+  THE YOUNGER ANGELS
+
+  They, the roses, freely spended
+  By the penitent, the glorious,
+  Helped to make the fight victorious,
+  And the lofty work is ended.
+  We this precious soul have won us;
+  Evil ones we forced to shun us;
+  Devils fled us when we hit them:
+  'Stead of pangs of hell, that bit them,
+  Love pangs felt they, sharper, vaster:
+  Even he, old Satan Master,
+  Pierced with keenest pain retreated.
+  Now rejoice! The work's completed!
+
+  THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS
+
+  Earth's residue to bear
+    Hath sorely pressed us;
+  It were not pure and fair,
+    Though 'twere asbestus.
+  When every element
+    The mind's high forces
+  Have seized, subdued, and blent,
+   No angel divorces
+  Twin natures single grown,
+    That inly mate them:
+  Eternal love alone
+    Can separate them.
+
+  THE YOUNGER ANGELS
+
+  Mist-like on heights above,
+    We now are seeing
+  Nearer and nearer move
+    Spiritual Being.
+  The clouds are growing clear;
+  And moving throngs appear
+      Of blessed boys,
+  Free from the earthly gloom,
+      In circling poise,
+    Who taste the cheer
+  Of the new springtime bloom
+    Of the upper sphere.
+  Let them inaugurate
+  Him to the perfect state,
+    Now, as their peer!
+
+  THE BLESSED BOYS
+
+  Gladly receive we now
+    Him, as a chrysalis:
+  Therefore achieve we now
+    Pledge of our bliss.
+  The earth-flakes dissipate
+    That cling around him!
+  See, he is fair and great!
+    Divine Life hath crowned him.
+
+  DOCTOR MARIANUS [_In the highest, purest cell_]
+
+  Free is the view at last,
+    The spirit lifted:
+  There women, floating past,
+    Are upward drifted:
+  The Glorious One therein,
+    With star-crown tender,--
+  The pure, the Heavenly Queen,
+    I know her splendor.
+
+  [_Enraptured_]
+
+  Highest Mistress of the World!
+    Let me in the azure
+  Tent of Heaven, in light unfurled,
+    Here thy Mystery measure!
+  Justify sweet thoughts that move
+    Breast of man to meet thee,
+  And with holy bliss of love
+    Bear him up to greet thee!
+  With unconquered courage we
+    Do thy bidding highest;
+  But at once shall gentle be,
+    When thou pacifiest.
+  Virgin, pure in brightest sheen,
+    Mother sweet, supernal,--
+  Unto us Elected Queen,
+    Peer of Gods Eternal!
+      Light clouds are circling
+        Around her splendor,--
+      Penitent women
+        Of natures tender,
+      Her knees embracing,
+        Ether respiring,
+        Mercy requiring!
+      Thou, in immaculate ray,
+        Mercy not leavest,
+      And the lightly led astray,
+        Who trust thee, receivest!
+  In their weakness fallen at length,
+    Hard it is to save them:
+  Who can crush, by native strength,
+    Vices that enslave them?
+  Whose the foot that may not slip
+    On the surface slanting?
+  Whom befool not eye and lip,
+    Breath and voice enchanting?
+
+    _The_ Mater Gloriosa _soars into the space_
+
+  CHORUS OF WOMEN PENITENTS
+
+  To heights thou'rt speeding
+      Of endless Eden:
+    Receive our pleading,
+      Transcendent Maiden,
+      With mercy laden!
+
+  MAGNA PECCATRIX [_St. Luke_, vii. 36]
+
+  By the love before him kneeling,--
+    Him, thy Son, a Godlike vision;
+  By the tears like balsam stealing,
+    Spite of Pharisees' derision;
+  By the box, whose ointment precious
+    Shed its spice and odors cheery;
+  By the locks, whose softest meshes
+    Dried the holy feet and weary!--
+
+  MULIER SAMARITANA [_St. John_, iv.]
+
+  By that well, the ancient station
+    Whither Abram's flocks were driven;
+  By the jar, whose restoration
+    To the Savior's lips was given;
+  By the fountain pure and vernal,
+    Thence its present bounty spending,--
+  Overflowing, bright, eternal,
+    Watering the worlds unending!--
+
+  MARIA ÆGYPTIACA [_Acta Sanctorum_]
+
+  By the place where the immortal
+    Body of the Lord hath lain;
+  By the arm which, from the portal,
+    Warning, thrust me back again;
+  By the forty years' repentance
+    In the lonely desert land;
+  By the blissful farewell sentence
+    Which I wrote upon the sand!--
+
+  THE THREE
+
+  Thou thy presence not deniest
+    Unto sinful women ever,--
+  Liftest them to win the highest
+    Gain of penitent endeavor,--
+  So, from this good soul withdraw not--
+    Who but once forgot, transgressing,
+  Who her loving error saw not--
+    Pardon adequate, and blessing!
+
+  UNA POENITENTIUM [_Formerly named Margaret, stealing closer_]
+
+            Incline, O Maiden,
+            With mercy laden,
+            In light unfading,
+  Thy gracious countenance upon my bliss!
+            My loved, my lover,
+            His trials over
+  In yonder world, returns to me in this!
+
+  BLESSED BOYS [_Approaching in hovering circles_]
+
+  With mighty limbs he towers
+    Already above us;
+  He, for this love of ours,
+    Will richlier love us.
+  Early were we removed,
+    Ere Life could reach us;
+  Yet he hath learned and proved,
+    And he will teach us.
+
+  THE PENITENT [_Formerly named Margaret_]
+
+  The spirit choir around him seeing,
+    New to himself, he scarce divines
+  His heritage of new-born Being,
+    When like the Holy Host he shines.
+  Behold, how he each band hath cloven
+    The earthly life had round him thrown,
+  And through his garb, of ether woven,
+    The early force of youth is shown!
+  Vouchsafe to me that I instruct him!
+    Still dazzles him the Day's new glare.
+
+  MATER GLORIOSA
+
+  Rise thou to higher spheres! Conduct him,
+    Who, feeling thee, shall follow there!
+
+  DOCTOR MARIANUS [_Prostrate, adoring_]
+
+  Penitents, look up, elate.
+    Where she beams salvation;
+  Gratefully to blessed fate
+    Grow, in re-creation!
+  Be our souls, as they have been,
+    Dedicate to thee!
+  Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen,
+    Goddess, gracious be!
+
+  CHORUS MYSTICUS
+
+  All things transitory
+    But as symbols are sent:
+  Earth's insufficiency
+    Here grows to Event:
+  The Indescribable,
+    Here it is done:
+  The Woman Soul leadeth us
+    Upward and on!
+
+
+
+MIGNON'S LOVE AND LONGING
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation
+
+
+Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a love which has
+been nursed in silence; of a faith grown strong in secret, and which at
+last comes forth in the hour of need and reveals itself to him who
+formerly has reckoned it of small account. The bud which had been closed
+so long and firmly was now ripe to burst its swathings, and Wilhelm's
+heart could never have been readier to welcome the impressions of
+affection.
+
+She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. "Master!" she cried,
+"if thou art unhappy, what will become of Mignon?" "Dear little
+creature," said he, taking her hands, "thou too art part of my
+anxieties. I must go hence." She looked at his eyes, glistening with
+restrained tears, and knelt down with vehemence before him. He kept her
+hands; she laid her head upon his knees, and remained quite still. He
+played with her hair, patted her, and spoke kindly to her. She continued
+motionless for a considerable time. At last he felt a sort of
+palpitating movement in her, which began very softly, and then by
+degrees, with increasing violence, diffused itself over all her frame.
+"What ails thee, Mignon?" cried he; "what ails thee?" She raised her
+little head, looked at him, and all at once laid her hand upon her
+heart, with the countenance of one repressing the utterance of pain. He
+raised her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed her towards him,
+and kissed her. She replied not by any pressure of the hand, by any
+motion whatever. She held firmly against her heart; and all at once gave
+a cry, which was accompanied by spasmodic movements of the body. She
+started up, and immediately fell down before him, as if broken in every
+joint. It was an excruciating moment! "My child!" cried he, raising her
+up and clasping her fast,--"my child, what ails thee?" The palpitations
+continued, spreading from the heart over all the lax and powerless
+limbs; she was merely hanging in his arms. All at once she again became
+quite stiff, like one enduring the sharpest corporeal agony; and soon
+with a new vehemence all her frame once more became alive, and she threw
+herself about his neck, like a bent spring that is closing; while in her
+soul, as it were, a strong rent took place, and at the same moment a
+stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes into his bosom. He held her
+fast. She wept, and no tongue can express the force of these tears. Her
+long hair had loosened, and was hanging down before her; it seemed as if
+her whole being was melting incessantly into a brook of tears. Her rigid
+limbs were again become relaxed; her inmost soul was pouring itself
+forth; in the wild confusion of the moment, Wilhelm was afraid she would
+dissolve in his arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp. He held
+her faster and faster. "My child!" cried he, "my child! thou art indeed
+mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou art mine! I will keep thee,
+I will never forsake thee!" Her tears continued flowing. At last she
+raised herself; a faint gladness shone upon her face. "My father!"
+cried she, "thou wilt not forsake me? Wilt be my father? I am thy
+child!"
+
+Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before the door; the old
+man brought his most affecting songs as an evening offering to our
+friend, who, holding his child ever faster in his arms, enjoyed the most
+pure and undescribable felicity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Know'st thou the land where citron-apples bloom,
+  And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,
+  A gentle wind from deep-blue heaven blows,
+  The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows?
+  Know'st thou it then?
+                          'Tis there! Tis there,
+  O my true loved one, thou with me must go!
+
+  Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall?
+  The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall,
+  And marble statues stand, and look each one:
+  What's this, poor child, to thee they've done?
+  Know'st thou it then?
+                          'Tis there! 'Tis there,
+  O my protector, thou with me must go!
+
+  "Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud?
+  The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud,
+  In caves lie coiled the dragon's ancient brood,
+  The crag leaps down, and over it the flood:
+  Know'st thou it then?
+                          'Tis there! 'Tis there
+  Our way runs: O my father, wilt thou go?"
+
+Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, Wilhelm did not
+find her, but was informed that she had gone out early with Melina, who
+had risen betimes to receive the wardrobe and other apparatus of his
+theatre.
+
+After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound of music before
+his door. At first he thought it was the harper come again to visit him;
+but he soon distinguished the tones of a cithern, and the voice which
+began to sing was Mignon's. Wilhelm opened the door; the child came in,
+and sang him the song we have just given above.
+
+The music and general expression of it pleased our friend extremely,
+though he could not understand all the words. He made her once more
+repeat the stanzas, and explain them; he wrote them down, and translated
+them into his native language. But the originality of its turns he could
+imitate only from afar: its childlike innocence of expression vanished
+from it in the process of reducing its broken phraseology to uniformity,
+and combining its disjointed parts. The charm of the tune, moreover, was
+entirely incomparable.
+
+She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if she wished
+to draw attention towards something wonderful, as if she had something
+weighty to communicate. In the third line, her tones became deeper and
+gloomier; the "Know'st thou it then?" was uttered with a show of mystery
+and eager circumspectness; in the "'Tis there! 'Tis there!" lay a
+boundless longing; and her "With me must go!" she modified at each
+repetition, so that now it appeared to entreat and implore, now to impel
+and persuade.
+
+On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent for a
+moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, "_Know'st_ thou the
+land?" "It must mean Italy," said Wilhelm: "where didst thou get the
+little song?" "Italy!" said Mignon, with an earnest air. "If thou go to
+Italy, take me along with thee; for I am too cold here." "Hast thou been
+there already, little dear?" said Wilhelm. But the child was silent, and
+nothing more could be got out of her.
+
+
+
+WILHELM MEISTER'S INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation
+
+
+"Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, "read one of
+Shakespeare's plays?"
+
+"No," replied Wilhelm: "since the time when they became more known in
+Germany, I have myself grown unacquainted with the theatre; and I know
+not whether I should now rejoice that an old taste and occupation of my
+youth, has been by chance renewed. In the mean time, all that I have
+heard of these plays has excited little wish to become acquainted with
+such extraordinary monsters, which appear to set probability and dignity
+alike at defiance."
+
+"I would advise you," said the other, "to make a trial, notwithstanding:
+it can do one no harm to look at what is extraordinary with one's own
+eyes. I will lend you a volume or two; and you cannot better spend your
+time than by casting everything aside, and retiring to the solitude of
+your old habitation, to look into the magic lantern of that unknown
+world. It is sinful of you to waste your hours in dressing out these
+apes to look more human, and teaching dogs to dance. One thing only I
+require,--you must not cavil at the form; the rest I can leave to your
+own good sense and feeling."
+
+The horses were standing at the door; and Jarno mounted with some other
+cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked after him with sadness. He
+would fain have spoken much with this man who though in a harsh,
+unfriendly way, gave him new ideas,--ideas that he had need of.
+
+Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development of his powers,
+capacities, and conceptions, gets into a perplexity from which a prudent
+friend might easily deliver him. He resembles a traveler, who, at but a
+short distance from the inn he is to rest at, falls into the water: were
+any one to catch him then and pull him to the bank, with one good
+wetting it were over; whereas, though he struggles out himself, it is
+often at the side where he tumbled in, and he has to make a wide and
+weary circuit before reaching his appointed object.
+
+Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went forward in the
+world differently from what he had supposed. He now viewed close at hand
+the solemn and imposing life of the great and distinguished, and
+wondered at the easy dignity which they contrived to give it. An army on
+its march, a princely hero at the head of it, such a multitude of
+co-operating warriors, such a multitude of crowding worshipers, exalted
+his imagination. In this mood he received the promised books; and ere
+long, as may be easily supposed, the stream of that mighty genius laid
+hold of him and led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he soon
+completely forgot and lost himself....
+
+Wilhelm had scarcely read one or two of Shakespeare's plays, till their
+effect on him became so strong that he could go no further. His whole
+soul was in commotion. He sought an opportunity to speak with Jarno; to
+whom, on meeting with him, he expressed his boundless gratitude for such
+delicious entertainment.
+
+"I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, "that you would not remain
+insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary and most admirable of
+all writers."
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed our friend: "I cannot recollect that any book, any man,
+any incident of my life, has produced such important effects on me, as
+the precious works to which by your kindness I have been directed. They
+seem as if they were performances of some celestial genius descending
+among men, to make them by the mildest instructions acquainted with
+themselves. They are no fictions! You would think, while reading them,
+you stood before the inclosed awful Books of Fate, while the whirlwind
+of most impassioned life was howling through the leaves, and tossing
+them fiercely to and fro. The strength and tenderness, the power and
+peacefulness of this man, have so astonished and transported me, that I
+long vehemently for the time when I shall have it in my power to read
+further."
+
+"Bravo!" said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeezing our friend's.
+"This is as it should be! And the consequences which I hope for will
+likewise surely follow."
+
+"I wish," said Wilhelm, "I could but disclose to you all that is going
+on within me even now. All the anticipations I have ever had regarding
+man and his destiny, which have accompanied me from youth upwards often
+unobserved by myself, I find developed and fulfilled in Shakespeare's
+writings. It seems as if he cleared up every one of our enigmas to us,
+though we cannot say, Here or there is the word of solution. His men
+appear like natural men, and yet they are not. These, the most
+mysterious and complex productions of creation, here act before us as if
+they were watches, whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal, which
+pointed out according to their use the course of the hours and minutes;
+while at the same time you could discern the combination of wheels and
+springs that turn them. The few glances I have cast over Shakespeare's
+world incite me, more than anything beside, to quicken my footsteps
+forward into the actual world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that
+is suspended over it; and at length, if I shall prosper, to draw a few
+cups from the great ocean of true nature, and to distribute them from
+off the stage among the thirsting people of my native land."
+
+
+
+WILHELM MEISTER'S ANALYSIS OF HAMLET
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+Seeing the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now hoped he might
+further have it in his power to converse with them on the poetic merit
+of the pieces which might come before them. "It is not enough," said he
+next day, when they were all again assembled, "for the actor merely to
+glance over a dramatic work, to judge of it by his first impression, and
+thus without investigation to declare his satisfaction or
+dissatisfaction with it. Such things may be allowed in a spectator,
+whose purpose it is rather to be entertained and moved than formally to
+criticize. But the actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give
+a reason for his praise or censure: and how shall he do this if he have
+not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views, and feelings of
+his author? A common error is, to form a judgment of a drama from a
+single part in it; and to look upon this part itself in an isolated
+point of view, not in its connection with the whole. I have noticed this
+within a few days so clearly in my own conduct, that I will give you the
+account as an example, if you please to hear me patiently.
+
+"You all know Shakespeare's incomparable 'Hamlet': our public reading of
+it at the Castle yielded every one of us the greatest satisfaction. On
+that occasion we proposed to act the piece; and I, not knowing what I
+undertook, engaged to play the Prince's part. This I conceived that I
+was studying, while I began to get by heart the strongest passages, the
+soliloquies, and those scenes in which force of soul, vehemence, and
+elevation of feeling have the freest scope; where the agitated heart is
+allowed to display itself with touching expressiveness.
+
+"I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the spirit of the
+character, while I endeavored as it were to take upon myself the load of
+deep melancholy under which my prototype was laboring, and in this humor
+to pursue him through the strange labyrinths of his caprices and his
+singularities. Thus learning, thus practicing, I doubted not but I
+should by-and-by become one person with my hero.
+
+"But the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it become for me to
+form any image of the whole, in its general bearings; till at last it
+seemed as if impossible. I next went through the entire piece, without
+interruption; but here too I found much that I could not away with. At
+one time the characters, at another time the manner of displaying them,
+seemed inconsistent; and I almost despaired of finding any general tint,
+in which I might present my whole part with all its shadings and
+variations. In such devious paths I toiled, and wandered long in vain;
+till at length a hope arose that I might reach my aim in quite a new
+way.
+
+"I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's character, as it had
+shown itself before his father's death: I endeavored to distinguish what
+in it was independent of this mournful event; independent of the
+terrible events that followed; and what most probably the young man
+would have been, had no such thing occurred.
+
+"Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had sprung up under the
+immediate influences of majesty; the idea of moral rectitude with that
+of princely elevation, the feeling of the good and dignified with the
+consciousness of high birth, had in him been unfolded simultaneously. He
+was a prince, by birth a prince; and he wished to reign, only that good
+men might be good without obstruction. Pleasing in form, polished by
+nature, courteous from the heart, he was meant to be the pattern of
+youth and the joy of the world.
+
+"Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was a still
+presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly accomplishments was
+not entirely his own; it needed to be quickened and inflamed by praise
+bestowed on others for excelling in them. Pure in sentiment, he knew the
+honorable-minded, and could prize the rest which an upright spirit
+tastes on the bosom of a friend. To a certain degree, he had learned to
+discern and value the good and the beautiful in arts and sciences; the
+mean, the vulgar was offensive to him: and if hatred could take root in
+his tender soul, it was only so far as to make him properly despise the
+false and changeful insects of a court, and play with them in easy
+scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in his conduct, neither
+pleased with idleness nor too violently eager for employment. The
+routine of a university he seemed to continue when at court. He
+possessed more mirth of humor than of heart; he was a good companion,
+pliant, courteous, discreet, and able to forget and forgive an injury,
+yet never able to unite himself with those who overstept the limits of
+the right, the good, and the becoming.
+
+"When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether I am yet on the
+proper track. I hope at least to bring forward passages that shall
+support my opinion in its main points."
+
+This delineation was received with warm approval; the company imagined
+they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of proceeding might now be very
+satisfactorily explained; they applauded this method of penetrating into
+the spirit of a writer. Each of them proposed to himself to take up some
+piece, and study it on these principles, and so unfold the author's
+meaning ....
+
+Loving Shakespeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead round the
+conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Expressing, as he
+entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new epoch which these exquisite
+productions must form in Germany, he ere long introduced his 'Hamlet,'
+who had busied him so much of late.
+
+Serlo declared that he would long ago have played the piece, had this
+been possible, and that he himself would willingly engage to act
+Polonius. He added with a smile, "An Ophelia too will certainly turn up,
+if we had but a Prince."
+
+Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at her
+brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein, becoming copious
+and didactic, expounding how he would have 'Hamlet' played. He
+circumstantially delivered to his hearers the opinions we before saw him
+busied with; taking all the trouble possible to make his notion of the
+matter acceptable, skeptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it. "Well
+then," said the latter finally, "suppose we grant you all this, what
+will you explain by it?"
+
+"Much, everything," said Wilhelm. "Conceive a prince such as I have
+painted him, and that his father suddenly dies. Ambition and the love of
+rule are not the passions that inspire him. As a king's son, he would
+have been contented; but now he is first constrained to consider the
+difference which separates a sovereign from a subject. The crown was not
+hereditary; yet a longer possession of it by his father would have
+strengthened the pretensions of an only son, and secured his hopes of
+the succession. In place of this, he now beholds himself excluded by his
+uncle, in spite of specious promises, most probably forever. He is now
+poor in goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene which from youth he
+had looked upon as his inheritance. His temper here assumes its first
+mournful tinge. He feels that now he is not more, that he is less, than
+a private nobleman; he offers himself as the servant of every one; he is
+not courteous and condescending, he is needy and degraded.
+
+"His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It is in vain that
+his uncle strives to cheer him, to present his situation in another
+point of view. The feeling of his nothingness will not leave him.
+
+"The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper, bowed still more.
+It was the marriage of his mother. The faithful tender son had yet a
+mother, when his father passed away. He hoped in the company of his
+surviving, noble-minded parent, to reverence the heroic form of the
+departed; but his mother too he loses, and it is something worse than
+death that robs him of her. The trustful image which a good child loves
+to form of its parents is gone. With the dead there is no help; on the
+living no hold. She also is a woman, and her name is Frailty, like that
+of all her sex.
+
+"Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphaned; and no
+happiness of life can repay what he has lost. Not reflective or
+sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow have become for him a heavy
+obligation. It is thus that we see him first enter on the scene. I do
+not think that I have mixed aught foreign with the piece, or overcharged
+a single feature of it."
+
+Serlo looked at his sister and said, "Did I give thee a false picture of
+our friend? He begins well; he has still many things to tell us, many to
+persuade us of." Wilhelm asseverated loudly that he meant not to
+persuade but to convince; he begged for another moment's patience.
+
+"Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, "this son of princes;
+conceive him vividly, bring his state before your eyes, and then observe
+him when he learns that his father's spirit walks; stand by him in the
+terrors of the night, when the venerable ghost itself appears before
+him. A horrid shudder passes over him; he speaks to the mysterious form;
+he sees it beckon him; he follows it, and hears. The fearful accusation
+of his uncle rings in his ears; the summons to revenge, and the piercing
+oft-repeated prayer, Remember me!
+
+"And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands before us? A
+young hero panting for vengeance? A prince by birth, rejoicing to be
+called to punish the usurper of his crown? No! trouble and astonishment
+take hold of the solitary young man; he grows bitter against smiling
+villains, swears that he will not forget the spirit, and concludes with
+the significant ejaculation:--
+
+  "'The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
+  That ever I was born to set it right!'
+
+"In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Hamlet's whole
+procedure. To me it is clear that Shakespeare meant, in the present
+case, to represent the effects of a great action laid upon a soul unfit
+for the performance of it. In this view the whole piece seems to me to
+be composed. There is an oak-tree planted in a costly jar, which should
+have borne only pleasant flowers in its bosom; the roots expand, the jar
+is shivered.
+
+"A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without the strength of
+nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burden which it cannot bear
+and must not cast away. All duties are holy for him; the present is too
+hard. Impossibilities have been required of him, not in themselves
+impossibilities, but such for him. He winds, and turns, and torments
+himself; he advances and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself
+in mind; at last does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts; yet
+still without recovering his peace of mind."
+
+Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing; at last she
+conducted Wilhelm to another room, and going to the window, and looking
+out at the starry sky she said to him, "You have still much to tell us
+about Hamlet; I will not hurry you; my brother must hear it as well as
+I; but let me beg to know your thoughts about Ophelia."
+
+"Of her there cannot much be said," he answered; "for a few master
+strokes complete her character. The whole being of Ophelia floats in
+sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the Prince, to whose hand she may
+aspire, flows so spontaneously, her tender heart obeys its impulses so
+unresistingly, that both father and brother are afraid; both give her
+warning harshly and directly. Decorum, like the thin lawn upon her
+bosom, cannot hide the soft, still movements of her heart; it on the
+contrary betrays them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes
+amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity should shake the
+tree, its fruit would fall."
+
+"And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself forsaken, cast away,
+despised; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed lover, and the
+highest changes to the lowest, and instead of the sweet cup of love he
+offers her the bitter cup of woe--"
+
+"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; "the whole structure of her being is
+loosened from its joinings; her father's death strikes fiercely against
+it; and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into fragments...."
+
+Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister; and looking
+in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, "So you are again at
+'Hamlet'? Very good! Many doubts have arisen in me, which seem not a
+little to impair the canonical aspect of the piece as you would have it
+viewed. The English themselves have admitted that its chief interest
+concludes with the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and
+scarcely uniting with the rest: and certainly about the end it seems to
+stand stock still."
+
+"It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some individuals of a nation
+which has so many masterpieces to feel proud of, may be led by prejudice
+and narrowness of mind to form false judgments; but this cannot hinder
+us from looking with our own eyes, and doing justice where we see it
+due. I am very far from censuring the plan of 'Hamlet': on the other
+hand, I believe there never was a grander one invented; nay, it is not
+invented, it is real."
+
+"How do you demonstrate that?" inquired Serlo.
+
+"I will not demonstrate anything," said Wilhelm; "I will merely show you
+what my own conceptions of it are."
+
+Aurelia rose up from her cushion, leaned upon her hand, and looked at
+Wilhelm; who, with the firmest assurance that he was in the right, went
+on as follows:--
+
+"It pleases us, it flatters us to see a hero acting on his own strength;
+loving and hating as his heart directs him; undertaking and completing;
+casting every obstacle aside; and at length attaining some great object
+which he aimed at. Poets and historians would willingly persuade us that
+so proud a lot may fall to man. In 'Hamlet' we are taught another
+lesson: the hero is without a plan, but the piece is full of plan. Here
+we have no villain punished on some self-conceived and rigidly
+accomplished scheme of vengeance: a horrid deed occurs; it rolls itself
+along with all its consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its
+course; the perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss which is
+made ready for him, yet he plunges in, at the very point by which he
+thinks he shall escape and happily complete his course.
+
+"For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief over innocence,
+as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over many that deserve them
+not; while frequently the author of the one or of the other is not
+punished or rewarded at all. Here in this play of ours, how strange! The
+Pit of Darkness sends its spirit and demands revenge; in vain! All
+circumstances tend one way, and hurry to revenge; in vain! Neither
+earthly nor infernal thing may bring about what is reserved for Fate
+alone. The hour of judgment comes: the wicked falls with the good; one
+race is mowed away, that another may spring up."
+
+After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo said: "You pay
+no great compliment to Providence, in thus exalting Shakespeare; and
+besides, it appears to me that for the honor of your poet, as others for
+the honor of Providence, you ascribe to him an object and a plan which
+he himself had never thought of."
+
+"Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have looked at Ophelia's
+part again; I am contented with it, and conceive that under certain
+circumstances I could play it. But tell me, should not the poet have
+furnished the insane maiden with another sort of songs? Could not one
+select some fragments out of melancholy ballads for this purpose? What
+have double meanings and lascivious insipidities to do in the mouth of
+such a noble-minded person?"
+
+"Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "even here I cannot yield you one iota. In
+these singularities, in this apparent impropriety, a deep sense is hid.
+Do we not understand from the very first what the mind of the good
+soft-hearted girl was busied with? Silently she lived within herself,
+yet she scarce concealed her wishes, her longing; the tones of desire
+were in secret ringing through her soul; and how often may she have
+attempted, like an unskillful nurse, to lull her senses to repose with
+songs which only kept them more awake? But at last, when her
+self-command is altogether gone, when the secrets of her heart are
+hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays her; and in the innocence of
+insanity she solaces herself, unmindful of king or queen, with the echo
+of her loose and well-beloved songs, 'Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's
+Day,' and 'By Gis and by Saint Charity.'
+
+"I am much mistaken," cried he, "if I have not now discovered how the
+whole is to be managed; nay, I am convinced that Shakespeare himself
+would have arranged it so, had not his mind been too exclusively
+directed to the ruling interest, and perhaps misled by the novels which
+furnished him with his materials."
+
+"Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of solemnity upon
+the sofa; "I will listen calmly, but judge with rigor."
+
+"I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm; "only hear me. In the
+composition of this play, after the most accurate investigation and the
+most mature reflection, I distinguish two classes of objects. The first
+are the grand internal relations of the persons and events, the powerful
+effects which arise from the characters and proceedings of the main
+figures: these, I hold, are individually excellent, and the order in
+which they are presented cannot be improved. No kind of interference
+must be suffered to destroy them, or even essentially to change their
+form. These are the things which stamp themselves deep into the soul;
+which all men long to see, which no one dares to meddle with.
+Accordingly, I understand, they have almost wholly been retained in all
+our German theatres.
+
+"But our countrymen have erred, in my opinion, with regard to the second
+class of objects which may be observed in this tragedy: I allude to the
+external relations of the persons, whereby they are brought from place
+to place, or combined in various ways by certain accidental incidents.
+These they have looked upon as very unimportant; have spoken of them
+only in passing, or left them out altogether. Now indeed it must be
+owned that these threads are slack and slender; yet they run through the
+entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise fall asunder,
+and does actually fall asunder when you cut them off, and imagine you
+have done enough and more if you have left the ends hanging.
+
+"Among these external relations I include the disturbances in Norway,
+the war with young Fortinbras, the embassy to his uncle, the settling of
+that feud, the march of young Fortinbras to Poland, and his coming back
+at the end; of the same sort are Horatio's return from Wittenberg,
+Hamlet's wish to go thither, the journey of Laertes to France, his
+return, the dispatch of Hamlet into England, his capture by pirates, the
+death of the two courtiers by the letter which they carried. All these
+circumstances and events would be very fit for expanding and lengthening
+a novel; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of the
+piece,--particularly as the hero had no plan,--and are in consequence
+entirely out of place."
+
+"For once in the right!" cried Serlo.
+
+"Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm; "perhaps you will not always
+think me right. These errors are like temporary props of an edifice;
+they must not be removed till we have built a firm wall in their stead.
+My project therefore is, not at all to change those first-mentioned
+grand situations, or at least as much as possible to spare them, both
+collectively and individually; but with respect to these external,
+single, dissipated, and dissipating motives, to cast them all at once
+away, and substitute a solitary one instead of them."
+
+"And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent posture.
+
+"It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, "only I employ it
+rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You shall hear my plan and
+try it.
+
+"After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately conquered,
+grow unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his son Horatio, an old
+school friend of Hamlet's, and distinguished above every other for his
+bravery and prudence, to Denmark, to press forward the equipment of the
+fleet, which under the new luxurious King proceeds but slowly. Horatio
+has known the former King, having fought in his battles, having even
+stood in favor with him; a circumstance by which the first ghost scene
+will be nothing injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audience, and
+sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the fleet will soon
+arrive, whilst Horatio is commissioned to accelerate the preparation of
+it; and the Queen, on the other hand, will not consent that Hamlet, as
+he wishes, should go to sea along with him."
+
+"Heaven be praised!" cried Serlo; "we shall now get rid of Wittenberg
+and the university, which was always a sorry piece of business. I think
+your idea extremely good: for except these two distant objects, Norway
+and the fleet, the spectator will not be required to _fancy_ anything:
+the rest he will _see_; the rest takes place before him; whereas his
+imagination, on the other plan, was hunted over all the world."
+
+"You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, "how I shall contrive to keep the
+other parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of his uncle's crime,
+Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his company, to secure the
+affections of the army, and return in war-like force. Hamlet also is
+becoming dangerous to the King and Queen; they find no readier method of
+deliverance than to send him in the fleet, with Rosencrantz and
+Guildenstern to be spies upon him: and as Laertes in the mean time comes
+from France, they determine that this youth, exasperated even to murder,
+shall go after him. Unfavorable winds detain the fleet; Hamlet returns:
+for his wandering through the church-yard perhaps some lucky motive may
+be thought of; his meeting with Laertes in Ophelia's grave is a grand
+moment, which we must not part with. After this, the King resolves that
+it is better to get quit of Hamlet on the spot: the festival of his
+departure, the pretended reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized;
+on which occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights with
+Hamlet. Without the four corpses I cannot end the piece; not one of them
+can possibly be left. The right of popular election now again comes in
+force, and Hamlet gives his dying voice for Horatio."
+
+"Quick! quick!" said Serlo; "sit down and work the piece; your plan has
+my entire approbation; only do not let your zeal for it evaporate." ...
+
+Wilhelm had already been for some time busied with translating Hamlet;
+making use, as he labored, of Wieland's spirited performance, by means
+of which he had first become acquainted with Shakespeare. What in
+Wieland's work had been omitted he replaced; and he had at length
+procured himself a complete version, at the very time when Serlo and he
+finally agreed about the way of treating it. He now began, according to
+his plan, to cut out and insert, to separate and unite, to alter and
+often to restore; for satisfied as he was with his own conception, it
+still appeared to him as if in executing it he were but spoiling the
+original.
+
+So soon as all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and the rest.
+They declared themselves exceedingly contented with it; Serlo in
+particular made many flattering observations.
+
+"You have felt very justly," said he, among other things, "that some
+external circumstances must accompany this piece; but that they must be
+simpler than those which the great poet has employed. What takes place
+without the theatre--what the spectator does not see, but must imagine
+for himself--is like a background, in front of which the acting figures
+move. Your large and simple prospect of the fleet and Norway will very
+much improve the piece; if this were altogether taken from it, we should
+have but a family scene remaining; and the great idea, that here a
+kingly house by internal crimes and incongruities goes down to ruin,
+would not be presented with its proper dignity. But if the former
+background were left standing, so manifold, so fluctuating and confused,
+it would hurt the impression of the figures."
+
+Wilhelm again took Shakespeare's part: alleging that he wrote for
+islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the distance, were
+accustomed to see little else than ships and voyages, the coast of
+France and privateers; and thus what perplexed and distracted others was
+to them quite natural.
+
+Serlo assented; and both of them were of opinion that as the piece was
+now to be produced upon the German stage, this more serious and simple
+background was the best adapted for the German mind.
+
+The parts had been distributed before: Serlo undertook Polonius; Aurelia
+undertook Ophelia; Laertes was already designated by his name; a young,
+thick-set, jolly new-comer was to be Horatio; the King and the Ghost
+alone occasioned some perplexity. For both of these was no one but Old
+Boisterous remaining. Serlo proposed to make the Pedant King; but
+against this our friend protested in the strongest terms. They could
+resolve on nothing.
+
+Wilhelm also had allowed both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to continue
+in his piece. "Why not compress them into one?" said Serlo. "This
+abbreviation will not cost you much."
+
+"Heaven keep me from such curtailments!" answered Wilhelm; "they destroy
+at once the sense and the effect. What these two persons are and do it
+is impossible to represent by one. In such small matters we discover
+Shakespeare's greatness. These soft approaches, this smirking and
+bowing, this assenting, wheedling, flattering, this whisking agility,
+this wagging of the tail, this allness and emptiness, this legal
+knavery, this ineptitude and insipidity,--how can they be expressed by a
+single man? There ought to be at least a dozen of these people if they
+could be had, for it is only in society that they are anything; they
+are society itself; and Shakespeare showed no little wisdom and
+discernment in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need them as a
+couple that may be contrasted with the single, noble, excellent
+Horatio."
+
+
+
+THE INDENTURE
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient. To
+act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our thought is
+troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful; the threshold is the place of
+expectation. The boy stands astonished, his impressions guide him; he
+learns sportfully, seriousness comes on him by surprise. Imitation is
+born with us; what should be imitated is not easy to discover. The
+excellent is rarely found, more rarely valued. The height charms us, the
+steps to it do not; with the summit in our eye, we love to walk along
+the plain. It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist needs
+it all. Who knows it half, speaks much and is always wrong; who knows it
+wholly, inclines to act and speaks seldom or late. The former have no
+secrets and no force; the instruction they can give is like baked bread,
+savory and satisfying for a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and
+seed corn ought not to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the
+best. The best is not to be explained by words. The spirit in which we
+act is the highest matter. Action can be understood and again
+represented by the spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing while he
+acts aright; but of what is wrong we are always conscious. Whoever works
+with symbols only is a pedant, a hypocrite, or a bungler. There are many
+such, and they like to be together. Their babbling detains the scholar;
+their obstinate mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which
+the true artist gives us opens the mind; for where words fail him, deeds
+speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the unknown, and
+approaches more and more to being a master.
+
+
+
+THE HARPER'S SONGS
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+  "What notes are those without the wall,
+    Across the portal sounding?
+  Let's have the music in our hall,
+    Back from its roof rebounding."
+  So spoke the king: the henchman flies;
+  His answer heard, the monarch cries,
+    "Bring in that ancient minstrel."
+
+  "Hail, gracious king, each noble knight!
+    Each lovely dame, I greet you!
+  What glittering stars salute my sight!
+    What heart unmoved may meet you!
+  Such lordly pomp is not for me,
+  Far other scenes my eyes must see:
+    Yet deign to list my harping."
+
+  The singer turns him to his art,
+    A thrilling strain he raises;
+  Each warrior hears with glowing heart
+    And on his loved one gazes.
+  The king, who liked his playing well,
+  Commands, for such a kindly spell,
+    A golden chain be given him.
+
+  "The golden chain give not to me:
+    Thy boldest knight may wear it,
+  Who 'cross the battle's purple sea
+    On lion breast may bear it;
+  Or let it be thy chancellor's prize,
+  Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,--
+    Its yellow glance will please him.
+
+  "I sing but as the linnet sings,
+    That on the green bough dwelleth;
+  A rich reward his music brings,
+    As from his throat it swelleth:
+  Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine
+  One sparkling draught of purest wine
+    To drink it here before you."
+
+  He viewed the wine, he quaffed it up:
+    "O draught of sweetest savor!
+  O happy house, where such a cup
+    Is thought a little favor!
+  If well you fare, remember me,
+  And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,
+    As now for this I thank you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Who never ate his bread in sorrow,
+    Who never spent the darksome hours
+  Weeping and watching for the morrow,--
+    He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.
+
+  To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us,
+    To guilt ye let us heedless go,
+  Then leave repentance fierce to wring us;
+    A moment's guilt, an age of woe!
+
+
+
+MIGNON'S SONG
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+  Such let me seem, till such I be;
+    Take not my snow-white dress away!
+  Soon from this dusk of earth I flee,
+    Up to the glittering lands of day.
+
+  There first a little space I rest,
+    Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind;
+  In earthly robes no longer drest,
+    This band, this girdle left behind.
+
+  And those calm shining sons of morn,
+    They ask not who is maid or boy;
+  No robes, no garments there are worn,
+    Our body pure from sin's alloy.
+
+  Through little life not much I toiled,
+    Yet anguish long this heart has wrung,
+  Untimely woe my blossoms spoiled:
+    Make me again forever young!
+
+
+
+PHILINA'S SONG
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+  Sing me not with such emotion
+    How the night so lonesome is;
+  Pretty maids, I've got a notion
+    It is the reverse of this.
+
+  For as wife and man are plighted,
+    And the better half the wife,
+  So is night to day united,--
+    Night's the better half of life.
+
+  Can you joy in bustling daytime,--
+    Day, when none can get his will?
+  It is good for work, for haytime;
+    For much other it is ill.
+
+  But when in the nightly glooming,
+    Social lamp on table glows,
+  Face for faces dear illuming,
+    And such jest and joyance goes;
+
+  When the fiery pert young fellow,
+    Wont by day to run or ride,
+  Whispering now some tale would tell O,--
+    All so gentle by your side;
+
+  When the nightingale to lovers
+    Lovingly her songlet sings,
+  Which for exiles and sad rovers
+    Like mere woe and wailing rings;
+
+  With a heart how lightsome-feeling
+    Do ye count the kindly clock,
+  Which, twelve times deliberate pealing,
+    Tells you none to-night shall knock!
+
+  Therefore, on all fit occasions,
+    Mark it, maidens, what I sing:
+  Every day its own vexations,
+    And the night its joys will bring.
+
+
+
+PROMETHEUS
+
+
+          Blacken thy heavens, Jove,
+            With thunder-clouds,
+          And exercise thee, like a boy
+            Who thistles crops,
+        With smiting oaks and mountain-tops:
+          Yet must leave me standing
+            My own firm earth;
+  Must leave my cottage, which thou didst not build,
+            And my warm hearth,
+            Whose cheerful glow
+            Thou enviest me.
+
+          I know naught more pitiful
+          Under the sun, than you, gods!
+            Ye nourish scantily
+            With altar taxes
+          And with cold lip-service,
+            This your majesty;--
+            Would perish, were not
+            Children and beggars
+            Credulous fools.
+
+            When I was a child,
+        And knew not whence or whither,
+        I would turn my 'wildered eye
+        To the sun, as if up yonder were
+        An ear to hear to my complaining--A
+            heart, like mine,
+      On the oppressed to feel compassion.
+
+            Who helped me
+      When I braved the Titans' insolence?
+        Who rescued me from death,
+            From slavery?
+      Hast thou not all thyself accomplished,
+            Holy-glowing heart?
+          And, glowing, young, and good,
+          Most ignorantly thanked
+          The slumberer above there?
+
+          I honor thee! For what?
+          Hast thou the miseries lightened
+            Of the down-trodden?
+      Hast thou the tears ever banished
+            From the afflicted?
+      Have I not to manhood been molded
+            By omnipotent Time,
+          And by Fate everlasting,
+            My lords and thine?
+
+            Dreamedst thou ever
+      I should grow weary of living,
+            And fly to the desert,
+            Since not all our
+            Pretty dream buds ripen?
+
+            Here sit I, fashion men
+            In mine own image,--
+            A race to be like me,
+            To weep and to suffer,
+      To be happy and enjoy themselves,
+        To be careless of _thee_ too,
+                As I!
+
+                                      Translation of John S. Dwight.
+
+
+
+WANDERER'S NIGHT SONGS
+
+
+  Thou that from the heavens art,
+    Every pain and sorrow stillest,
+  And the doubly wretched heart
+    Doubly with refreshment fillest,
+  I am weary with contending!
+      Why this rapture and unrest?
+            Peace descending,
+      Come, ah come into my breast!
+
+          O'er all the hill-tops
+            Is quiet now,
+          In all the tree-tops
+            Hearest thou
+          Hardly a breath;
+  The birds are asleep in the trees:
+          Wait; soon like these
+            Thou too shalt rest.
+
+                Longfellow's Translation. Reprinted by permission of
+                Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers, Boston
+
+
+
+THE ELFIN-KING
+
+
+  Who rides so late through the midnight blast?
+  'Tis a father spurs on with his child full fast;
+  He gathers the boy well into his arm,
+  He clasps him close and he keeps him warm.
+
+  "My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?"--
+  "Father, dost thou not see the elfin-king?
+  The elfin-king with his crown and train!"--
+  "My son, 'tis a streak of the misty rain!"
+
+  _"Come hither, thou darling, come, go with me!
+  Fine games I know that I'll play with thee;
+  Flowers many and bright do my kingdoms hold,
+  My mother has many a robe of gold."_
+
+  "O father, dear father, and dost thou not hear
+  What the elfin-king whispers so low in mine ear?"--
+  "Calm, calm thee, my boy, it is only the breeze,
+  As it rustles the withered leaves under the trees."
+
+  _"Wilt thou go, bonny boy, wilt thou go with me?
+  My daughters shall wait on thee daintily;
+  My daughters around thee in dance shall sweep,
+  And rock thee and kiss thee and sing thee to sleep."_
+
+  "O father, dear father, and dost thou not mark
+  The elf-king's daughters move by in the dark?"--
+  "I see it, my child; but it is not they,
+  'Tis the old willow nodding its head so gray."
+
+  _"I love thee! thy beauty it charms me so;
+  And I'll take thee by force, if thou wilt not go!"_
+  "O father, dear father, he's grasping me,--
+  My heart is as cold as cold can be!"
+
+  The father rides swiftly,--with terror he gasps,--
+  The sobbing child in his arms he clasps;
+  He reaches the castle with spurring and dread;
+  But alack! in his arms the child lay dead!
+
+                                   Translation of Martin and Aytoun.
+
+
+
+FROM 'THE WANDERER'S STORM SONG'
+
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+          Neither blinding rain nor storm
+          Breathes upon his heart a chill.
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+            To the lowering clouds,
+            To the beating hail,
+            He will sing cheerly,
+            As the lark there,
+            Thou that soarest.
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+        Him thou'lt lift o'er miry places
+            On thy flaming pinions:
+            He will traverse
+            As on feet of flowers
+          Slime of Deucalion's deluge;
+          Slaying Python, strong, great,
+            Pythius Apollo!
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+  Thou wilt spread thy downy wings beneath him,
+            When he sleeps upon the crags;
+  Thou wilt cover him with guardian pinions
+            In the midnight forest depths.
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+        Thou wilt in whirling snow-storm
+            Warmly wrap him round;
+            To the warmth fly the Muses,
+            To the warmth fly the Graces.
+
+            Around me float, ye Muses,
+              And float, ye Graces!
+            This is water, this is earth
+          And the son of water and of earth,
+                Over whom I wander
+                    Like the gods.
+
+          You are pure like the heart of water,
+          You are pure like the core of earth;
+          You float around me, and I float
+                Over water, over earth,
+                    Like the gods.
+
+                               Translation of Charles Harvey Genung.
+
+
+
+THE GODLIKE
+
+
+  Noble be Man,
+  Helpful and good!
+  For that alone
+  Doth distinguish him
+  From all the beings
+  Which we know.
+
+  Hail to the Unknown, the
+  Higher Beings
+  Felt within us!
+  His pattern teach us
+  Faith in them!
+
+  For unfeeling
+  Is Nature:
+  Still shineth the sun
+  Over good and evil:
+  And to the sinner
+  Smile, as to the best,
+  The moon and the stars.
+
+  Wind and waters,
+  Thunder and hailstones,
+  Rustle on their way,
+  Smiting down as
+  They dash along,
+  One for another.
+
+  Just so does Fate
+  Grope round in the crowd,
+  Seize now the innocent,
+  Curly-haired boy,
+  Now on the old, bald
+  Crown of the villain.
+
+  By great adamantine
+  Laws everlasting,
+  Here we must all our
+  Round of existence
+  Faithfully finish.
+
+  There can none but Man
+  Perform the Impossible.
+  He understandeth,
+  Chooseth, and judgeth;
+  He can impart to the
+  Moment duration.
+
+  He alone may
+  The Good reward,
+  The Guilty punish,
+  Mend and deliver;
+  All the wayward, anomalous
+  Bind in the Useful.
+
+  And the Immortals--
+  Them we reverence,
+  As if they were men, and
+  Did, on a grand scale,
+  What the best man in little
+  Does, or fain would do.
+
+  Let noble Man
+  Be helpful and good!
+  Ever creating
+  The Right and the Useful--
+  Type of those loftier
+  Beings of whom the heart whispers!
+
+                                      Translation of John S. Dwight.
+
+
+
+SOLITUDE
+
+
+  O ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,
+    Grant unto each whatsoever he may in silence desire!
+  Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,
+    And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves.
+  For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals,
+    Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.
+
+                                       Translation of E. A. Bowring.
+
+
+
+ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+
+  For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,
+      So, brethren, sing Ergo bibamus!
+  Though talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear:
+      Remember then, Ergo bibamus!
+  In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word;
+  With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirred,
+  And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
+      A glorious Ergo bibamus!
+
+  I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,
+      And bethought me of Ergo bibamus;
+  So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,
+      While I helped myself, thinking, Bibamus!
+  And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,
+  Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,
+  Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,
+      In the comforting Ergo bibamus!
+
+  I am called by my fate far away from each friend;
+      Ye loved ones, then, Ergo bibamus!
+  With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,
+      So double our Ergo bibamus!
+  Whatever to his treasure the niggard may add,
+  Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,
+  For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,
+      So, brethren, sing: Ergo bibamus!
+
+  And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?
+      I thought but of Ergo bibamus!
+  'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
+      So again and again sing Bibamus!
+  For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,
+  Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,
+  And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
+      While we thunder our Ergo bibamus.
+
+                                       Translation of E. A. Bowring.
+
+
+
+ALEXIS AND DORA
+
+
+  Farther and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel
+    Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-covered flood!
+  Long is the track plowed up by the keel where dolphins are sporting,
+    Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit.
+  All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness
+    Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs.
+  Forward presses the heart of each seaman, like colors and streamers;
+    Backward one only is seen, mournfully fixed near the mast,
+  While on the blue-tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he
+          gazeth,
+    And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs.
+  Vanished from thee, too, O Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee
+    Of thine Alexis, thy friend,--ah, thy betrothèd as well!
+  Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain.  Our hearts are still
+          throbbing,
+    Though for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more.
+  O thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest
+    Every day which had else coldly from memory fled.
+  'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended
+    Life such as deities grant, though thou perceivèdst it not.
+  Phoebus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory:
+    Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me.
+  Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there in the silence
+    Strive to recover the time when she appeared with each day.
+  Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it?
+    Worked not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine?
+  Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma
+    Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words;
+  Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful,
+    Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense.
+  When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladdened,
+    And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight.
+  Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, O Amor,
+    Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,--wherefore remove it so
+          late?
+  Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favoring breezes,
+    Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea.
+  Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future!
+    Ye all vanish, and naught, saving the moment, remains.
+  Yes! it remains,--my joy still remains! I hold thee, my Dora,
+    And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclosed.
+  Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple,
+    While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side.
+  Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market,
+    Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head.
+  Then was revealed thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous,
+    Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen.
+  Oft have I feared that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling,
+    Yet it ever remained firm on the circular cloth.
+  Thus, fair neighbor, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee,
+    As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon;
+  Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom
+    Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own.
+
+  Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only
+    Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne'er crossed.
+  Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to Heaven,
+    Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night.
+  All were now in movement: a boy to the house of my father
+    Ran at full speed and exclaimed, "Hasten thee quick to the strand!
+  Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is fluttering,
+    While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand;
+  Come, Alexis, oh come!"--My worthy stout-hearted father
+    Pressed, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-locked head,
+  While my mother carefully reached me a newly made bundle;
+    "Happy mayst thou return!" cried they--"both happy and rich!"
+  Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle,
+    Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by,
+  At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then, "Alexis!
+    Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be?
+  Foreign coasts wilt thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase,
+    Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town;
+  Bring me also, I pray thee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee,
+    Oft have I wished to possess some such a trinket as that."
+  There I remained, and asked, as merchants are wont, with precision
+    After the form and the weight which thy commission should have.
+  Modest indeed was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing
+    On thy neck, which deserved ornaments worn but by queens.
+  Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest:--
+    "Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend!
+  Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean
+    Beareth no fruit, and in truth, 'tis not produced by each land."
+  So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches,
+    And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld.
+  Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling
+    Into thy hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch.
+  Presently didst thou reach the arbor; there lay there a basket,
+    Sweet blooming myrtle-trees waved, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads.
+  Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence:
+    First the orange, which heavy as though 'twere of gold,
+  Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigured,
+    And with myrtle, the gift soon was both covered and graced.
+  But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,
+    And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film.
+  Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining
+    Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kissed I thy neck.
+  On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling,
+    Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting a rapturous pair.
+  Amor's hands I felt; he pressed us together with ardor,
+    And from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears
+  Streamed from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were
+          weeping,
+    And 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seemed to die.
+  Louder and louder they called from the strand; my feet would no longer
+    Bear my weight, and I cried:--"Dora! and art thou not mine?"
+  "Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were
+          shedding
+    Seemed to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god.
+  Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me
+    Suddenly peeped through the door.  How he the basket snatched up!
+  How he urged me away! how pressed I thy hand! Dost thou ask me
+    How the vessel I reached? Drunken I seemed, well I know,
+  Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me;
+    And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscured.
+  "Thine forever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses
+    With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne
+  Stood his daughter, the goddess of Love; the Graces were standing
+    Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine!
+  Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favoring zephyr!
+    Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!
+  Bring me unto the foreign harbor, so that the goldsmith
+    May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!
+  Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, O my Dora!
+    Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwined.
+  Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,
+    Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand.
+  There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely
+    Be to the jacinth opposed, seeming its foil; while the gold
+  Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.
+    Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betrothed!
+  Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me
+    Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form.
+  I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee;
+    Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee.
+  Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;
+    With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight:
+  Fine and woolen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,
+    Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest;
+  Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest
+    Me, and thyself, and perchance even a third with it too.
+  Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly immortals,
+    Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!
+  Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments,
+    When in their stead, Care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm.
+  Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their barking,
+    Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair,
+  As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one
+    Far away: of a truth, open the garden door stands!
+  And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling,
+    And for him also the fig strengthening honey doth yield!
+  Doth she entice him as well to the arbor? He follows? Oh, make me
+    Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind!
+  Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly
+    Yield, to another erelong, doubtless, will turn herself round.
+  Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!
+    Thunder more fearfully! Strike!--Stay--thy fierce lightnings
+          withhold!
+  Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight
+    Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck!
+  Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows
+    All these wares, and let _me_ be to the dolphins a prey!--
+  Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture
+    How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss.
+  Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;
+    Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.
+
+                                       Translation of E. A. Bowring.
+
+
+
+MAXIMS AND REFLECTIONS
+
+From 'Maxims and Reflections of Goethe.'
+
+Translation of Bailey Saunders. Copyright 1892, by Macmillan & Co.
+
+
+It is not always needful for truth to take a definite shape: it is
+enough if it hovers about us like a spirit and produces harmony; if it
+is wafted through the air like the sound of a bell, grave and kindly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I must hold it for the greatest calamity of our time, which lets nothing
+come to maturity, that one moment is consumed by the next, and the day
+spent in the day; so that a man is always living from hand to mouth,
+without having anything to show for it. Have we not already newspapers
+for every hour of the day? A good head could assuredly intercalate one
+or other of them. They publish abroad everything that every one does, or
+is busy with or meditating; nay, his very designs are thereby dragged
+into publicity. No one can rejoice or be sorry, but as a pastime for
+others; and so it goes on from house to house, from city to city, from
+kingdom to kingdom, and at last from one hemisphere to the other,--all
+in post-haste.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During a prolonged study of the lives of various men both great and
+small, I came upon this thought: In the web of the world the one may
+well be regarded as the warp, the other as the woof. It is the little
+men, after all, who give breadth to the web, and the great men firmness
+and solidity; perhaps also the addition of some sort of pattern. But the
+scissors of the Fates determine its length, and to that all the rest
+must join in submitting itself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is nothing more odious than the majority: it consists of a few
+powerful men to lead the way; of accommodating rascals and submissive
+weaklings; and of a mass of men who trot after them without in the least
+knowing their own mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Translators are like busy match-makers: they sing the praises of some
+half-veiled beauty, and extol her charms, and arouse an irresistible
+longing for the original.
+
+
+
+NATURE
+
+
+Nature! We are surrounded by her and locked in her clasp: powerless to
+leave her, and powerless to come closer to her. Unasked and unwarned she
+takes us up into the whirl of her dance, and hurries on with us till we
+are weary and fall from her arms.
+
+There is constant life in her, motion and development; and yet she
+remains where she was. She is eternally changing, nor for a moment does
+she stand still. Of rest she knows nothing, and to all stagnation she
+has affixed her curse. She is steadfast; her step is measured, her
+exceptions rare, her laws immutable.
+
+She loves herself, and clings eternally to herself with eyes and hearts
+innumerable. She has divided herself that she may be her own delight.
+She is ever making new creatures spring up to delight in her, and
+imparts herself insatiably.
+
+She rejoices in illusion. If a man destroys this in himself and others,
+she punishes him like the hardest tyrant. If he follows her in
+confidence, she presses him to her heart as it were her child.
+
+She spurts forth her creatures out of nothing, and tells them not whence
+they come and whither they go. They have only to go their way: she knows
+the path.
+
+Her crown is Love. Only through Love can we come near her. She puts
+gulfs between all things, and all things strive to be interfused. She
+isolates everything, that she may draw everything together. With a few
+draughts from the cup of Love she repays for a life full of trouble.
+
+She is all things. She rewards herself and punishes herself, and in
+herself rejoices and is distressed. She is rough and gentle, loving and
+terrible, powerless and almighty. In her everything is always present.
+Past or Future she knows not. The Present is her Eternity. She is kind.
+I praise her with all her works. She is wise and still. No one can force
+her to explain herself, or frighten her into a gift that she does not
+give willingly. She is crafty, but for a good end; and it is best not to
+notice her cunning.
+
+
+
+
+NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL
+
+(1809-1852)
+
+BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD
+
+[Illustration: NIKOLAI GOGOL]
+
+
+Gogol has been called the "father of modern Russian realism," and he has
+been credited with the creation of all the types which we meet in the
+great novelists who followed him. This is in great measure true,
+especially so far as the male characters are concerned. The germs at
+least, if not the condensed characterization in full, are recognizable
+in Gogol's famous novel 'Dead Souls,' his Little-Russian stories 'Tales
+from a Farm-House near Dikanka' and 'Mirgorod,' and his comedy 'The
+Inspector,' which still holds the stage.
+
+It was precisely because of his genius in seizing the national types
+that the poet Pushkin, one of Gogol's earliest and warmest admirers,
+gave to him the plans of 'Dead Souls' and 'The Inspector,' which he had
+intended to make use of himself. That he became the "father of Russian
+realism" was due not only to his own genius, but to the epoch in which
+he lived, though he solved the problem for himself quite independently
+of the Continental literatures which were undergoing the same process of
+transformation from romanticism to realism. For, nearly a hundred years
+before Gogol and his foreign contemporaries of the forties--the
+pioneers, in their respective countries, of the new literature--won the
+public, Europe had been living a sort of modern epic. In imitation of
+the ancient epics, writers portrayed heroes of gigantic powers in every
+direction, and set them in a framework of exceptional crises which
+aroused their powerful emotions in the cause of right, or their
+superhuman conflict with masterful persons or overwhelming woes. But the
+daily experience of those who suffered from the manifold miseries of
+battle and invasion in this modern epic epoch, made it impossible for
+them to disregard longer the claim on their sympathies of the common
+things and people of their world, though these can very easily be
+ignored when one reads the ancient epics. Thus did realism have its dawn
+in many lands when the era of peace gave men time to define their
+position, and when pseudo-classicism had at last palled on their taste,
+which had begun to recognize its coldness and inherent falsity.
+
+Naturally, in this new quest of Truth, romanticism and realism were
+mingled at first. This was the case with Gogol-Yanovsky, to give him his
+full name. But he soon struck out in the right path. He was born and
+reared in Little Russia, at Sorotchinsky, government of Poltava. He was
+separated by only two generations from the epoch of the Zaporozhian
+Kazak army, whose life he has recorded in his famous historical novel
+'Taras Bulba,' his grandfather having been regimental scribe of the
+Kazaks, an office of honor. The spirit of the Zaporozhian Kazaks still
+lingered over the land, which was overflowing with legends, and with
+fervent, childlike piety of the superstitious order. At least one half
+of the Little-Russian stories which made Gogol's fame he owes to his
+grandfather, who appears as Rudiy Panko the Bee-Farmer, in the 'Tales
+from a Farm-House near Dikanka.' His father, who represented the modern
+spirit, was an inimitable narrator of comic stories, and the talents of
+this father and grandfather rendered their house the social centre of a
+very wide neighborhood.
+
+At school Gogol did not distinguish himself in his studies, but wrote a
+great deal, all of an imitative character, and got up school plays in
+emulation of those which he had seen at his own home. His lack of
+scholarship made it impossible for him to pursue the learned career of
+professor of history, on which he embarked after he had with labor
+obtained, and shortly renounced, the career of copying-clerk in St.
+Petersburg. His vast but dimly defined ambition to accomplish great
+things for his fatherland in some mysterious way, and fame for himself,
+equally suffered shipwreck to his mind; though if we consider the part
+which the realistic literature he founded has played on the world's
+stage, we may count his apparent defeat a solid victory. His brief
+career as professor of history at the university was brought about by
+his ambition, and through the influence of the literary men whose
+friendship he had won by his first 'Little-Russian Tales.' They
+recognized his genius, and at last he himself recognized that the new
+style of writing which he had created was his vocation, and devoted
+himself wholly to literature. At the close of 1831 the first volume of
+'Tales from a Farm-House' appeared, and had an immense success. The
+second volume, 'Mirgorod, followed, with equal success. It contained a
+new element: the merriment of the first volume had been pure, unmixed;
+in the second volume he had developed not only the realism but that
+special trait of his genius, "laughter piercing through a mist of
+tears," of which 'Old-Fashioned Gentry' and 'How the Two Ivans
+Quarreled' offer celebrated examples. But success always flew to
+Gogol's head: he immediately began to despise these products of his true
+vocation, and to plan grandiose projects far beyond his powers of
+education and entirely outside the range of his talent. Now, for
+instance, he undertook a colossal work in nine volumes on the history of
+the Middle Ages. Happily, he abandoned that, after his studies of
+Little-Russian history incidental thereto had resulted in his epic of
+the highest art, 'Taras Bulba.'
+
+The first outcome of his recognition that literary work was his moral
+duty, not a mere pastime, was his great play 'The Inspector.' It was
+produced in April, 1836. The authorities steadfastly opposed its
+production; but the Emperor Nicholas I. heard of it, read it, ordered it
+produced, and upheld Gogol in enthusiastic delight. Officials,
+merchants, police, literary people, everybody, attacked the author. They
+had laughed at his pathos; now they raged at his comedy, refused to
+recognize their own portraits, and still tried to have the play
+prohibited. Gogol's health and spirits were profoundly affected by this
+unexpected enmity. He fled abroad, and returned to Russia thereafter
+only at intervals for brief visits, and chiefly to Moscow, where most of
+his faithful friends lived. He traveled much, but spent most of his time
+in Rome, where his lavish charities kept him always poor, even after the
+complete success of 'The Inspector' and of the first part of 'Dead
+Souls' would have enabled him to exist in comfort. He was accustomed to
+say that he could only see Russia clearly when he was far from her, and
+in a measure he proved this by his inimitable first volume of 'Dead
+Souls.' Herein he justified Pushkin's expectations in giving him that
+subject which would enable him to paint, in types, the classes and
+localities of his fatherland. But this long residence in Rome was fatal
+to his mind and health, and eventually extinguished the last sparks of
+genius. The Russian mind is peculiarly inclined to mysticism, and
+Russian writers of eminence seem to be even more susceptible in that
+direction than ordinary men. Of the noted writers in this century,
+Pushkin and Lermontoff had leaned decidedly in that direction towards
+the end of their careers, brief as their lives were. Gogol was their
+intimate friend in Russia, and after he went abroad he was the intimate
+friend of the aged poet Zhukovsky, who became a mystic in his declining
+years.
+
+Even in his school days Gogol had shown, in his letters to his mother, a
+marked tendency to religious exaltation. Now, under the combined
+pressure of his personal inclinations, friendships, and the clerical
+atmosphere of Rome, he developed into a mystic and ascetic of the most
+pronounced type. In this frame of mind, he looked upon all his earlier
+writings as sins which must be atoned for; and yet his immense
+self-esteem was so flattered by the tremendous success of 'The
+Inspector' and of the first part of 'Dead Souls,' that he began to
+regard himself as a kind of divinely commissioned prophet, whose duty it
+was to exhort his fellow-men. The extract from these hortatory letters
+to his friends which he published convinced his countrymen that nothing
+more was to be expected from him. The failure of this volume only helped
+to plunge him into deeper depths of self-torture. In the few remaining
+lucid moments of his genius he worked at the second part of 'Dead
+Souls,' but destroyed what he had written in the moments of ecstatic
+remorse which followed. Thus the greatest work of his mature genius
+remains uncompleted. In 1848 he made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and
+returned through Odessa to Moscow, where he lived until his death,
+growing constantly more mystical, more ascetic. Sleepless nights spent
+in prayer, fasting to the extent of trying to nourish himself (as it is
+affirmed that practiced ascetics successfully can) for a week on one of
+the tiny double loaves which are used in the Holy Communion, completed
+the ravages of his long-endured maladies.
+
+It was for publishing in a Moscow paper an enthusiastic obituary of the
+dead genius, which he had been forbidden to publish in St. Petersburg,
+that Turgénieff was sent into residence on his estate, and enriched the
+world with the first work of the rising genius, 'The Diary of a
+Sportsman.' Acuteness of observation; natural, infectious, genuine
+humor; vivid realism; and an inimitable power of depicting national
+types, are Gogol's distinguishing characteristics: and these in varying
+degrees are precisely the ingredients which have entered into the works
+of his successors and rendered Russian literature famous as a school.
+
+In reviewing Gogol's work, we may set aside with but cursory mention his
+youthful idyl, written while still in the gymnasium, published
+anonymously and overwhelmed with ridicule, 'Hans Kuchel-garten'; his
+'Arabesques,' which are useful chiefly as a contribution to the study of
+the man and his opinions, not as permanent additions to literature; his
+'Extracts from Correspondence with Friends,' which belong to the
+sermonizing, clouded period of his life's close; and the divers
+'Fragments,' both of prose and dramatic writing, all of which are
+conscientiously included in the complete editions of his writings.
+
+The only complete play which he wrote except 'The Inspector' is the
+comedy 'Marriage,' which is still acted, though very seldom. It is full
+of naturalness and his own peculiar humor, but its subject does not
+appeal to the universal public of all lands as nearly as does the plan
+of 'The Inspector.' The plot, in brief, is founded on a young girl's
+meditations on marriage, and her actions which lead up to and follow
+those meditations. The Heroine, desirous of marrying, invokes the aid of
+the Match-maker, the old-time matrimonial agent in the Russian merchant
+and peasant classes by conventional etiquette. The Match-maker offers
+for her consideration several suitable men, all strangers; the Heroine
+makes her choice, and is very well content with her suitor. But she
+begins to meditate on the future, becomes moved to tears by the thought
+of her daughter's possible unhappiness in a hypothetical wretched
+marriage in the dim future, and at last, unable to endure this painful
+prospect, she evades her betrothed and breaks off the match. While the
+characteristic and national touches are keen and true,--precursors of
+the vein which Ostrovsky so happily developed later,--the play must
+remain a matter of greater interest to Russians than to foreigners.
+
+The interest of 'The Inspector,' on the other hand, is universal:
+official negligence and corruption, bribery, masculine boastfulness and
+vanity, and feminine qualities to correspond, are the private
+prerogatives of no one nation, of no one epoch. The comedy possesses all
+the elements of social portraiture and satire without caricature:
+concentration of time, place, action, language, and a tremendous
+condensation of character traits which are not only truly, typically
+national, but which come within the ken of all fair-minded persons in
+other countries.
+
+The volume with which he scored his first success, and which must remain
+a classic, is 'Evenings at a Farm-House near Dikanka.' As the second
+volume, 'Mirgorod,' and his volume of 'St. Petersburg Tales,' all
+combine essentially the same ingredients, though in varying measure, we
+may consider them together. All the tales in the first two volumes are
+from his beloved birthplace, Little Russia. Some of them are simply the
+artistic and literary rendering of popular legends, whose counterparts
+may be found in the folk literature of other lands. Such are the story
+of the vampire, 'Vy,' 'St. John's Eve,' and the exquisite 'A May Night,'
+where the famous poetical spirit of the Ukraina is displayed in its full
+force and beauty. 'The Lost Document,' 'Sorotchinsky Fair,' 'The
+Enchanted Spot,' and others of like legendary but more exclusively
+national character, show the same fertility of wit and skill of
+management, with close study of every-day customs, superstitions, and
+life, which render them invaluable to both Russians and foreigners.
+
+More important than these, however, are such stories as 'Old-Fashioned
+Gentry' (or 'Farmers'), where keen but kindly wit, more tempered than
+the mirth of youthful high spirits which had imbued the fantastic tales,
+is mingled with the purest, deepest pathos and minute delineation of
+character and customs, in an inimitable work of the highest art. To this
+category belong also 'How the Two Ivans Quarreled' (the full title, 'How
+Ivan Ivan'itch and Ivan Nikifor'itch Quarreled,' is rather unwieldy for
+the foreign ear), and 'The Cloak,' from the volume of 'St. Petersburg
+Tales.' We may also count 'The Nevsky Prospekt' with these; while 'The
+Portrait' is semi-fantastic, 'The Nose' and 'The Calash' are wholly so,
+though not legendary, and 'The Diary of a Madman' is unexcelled as an
+amusing but touching study of a diseased mind in the ranks of petty
+officialdom.
+
+Gogol's capital work, however, is his 'Dead Souls.' In it he carried to
+its highest point his talent for accurate delineation of his countrymen
+and the conditions of their life. There is less pathos than in some of
+his short tales; but all the other elements are perfected. Pushkin's
+generosity and sound judgment were never better shown than in the gift
+which he made to Gogol of the plan of this book. He could not have
+executed it himself as well. The work must forever rank as a Russian
+classic; it ought to rank as a universal classic. The types are as
+fresh, true, and vivid to one who knows the Russia of to-day as they
+were when they were first introduced to the enthusiastic public of 1842.
+
+In the pre-Emancipation days, a soul meant a male serf. The women were
+not counted in the periodical revisions, though the working unit, a
+_tyaglo_, consisted of a man, his wife, and his horse--the indispensable
+trinity to agricultural labor. In the interval between the revisions, a
+landed proprietor continued to pay for all the serfs accredited to him
+on the official list, the births being reckoned for convenience as an
+exact offset to the deaths. Another provision of the law was, that no
+one should purchase serfs without the land to which they belonged,
+except for the purpose of colonization. An ingenious fraud suggested by
+a combination of these two laws forms the foundation of 'Dead Souls.'
+The hero, Tchitchikoff, is an official who has struggled up ambitiously
+and shrewdly, through numerous vicissitudes of bribe-taking, extortion,
+and ensuing discomfiture, to a snug berth in the custom-house service,
+from which he is ejected under circumstances which render further
+flights difficult if not impossible. In this strait he hits upon the
+idea of purchasing from landed proprietors of mediocre probity the souls
+who are dead, though still nominally alive, and on whom they are forced
+to pay taxes. Land is being given away gratuitously, in the southern
+governments of Kherson and Tauris, to any one who will settle upon it,
+as every one knows. His plan is to buy one thousand non-existent serfs
+("dead souls"), at a maximum of one hundred rubles apiece, for
+colonization on an equally non-existent estate in the south, and then,
+by mortgaging them to the loan bank for the nobility known as the
+Council of Guardians, obtain a capital of two hundred thousand rubles.
+In pursuance of this clever scheme he sets out on his travels, visits
+provincial towns and the estates of landed gentry of every shade of
+character, dishonesty, and financial standing, where he either buys for
+a song, or cajoles from them as a gift, large numbers of "dead souls."
+It is unnecessary and impossible to do more than reinforce the hint
+which this statement contains, by the assurance that Gogol used to the
+uttermost the magnificent opportunity thus afforded him of showing up
+Russian life and manners. Though the scene of Tchitchikoff's wanderings
+does not include either capital, the life there does not escape the
+author's notice in his asides and illustrative arguments. It may also be
+said that while his talent lies pre-eminently in the delineation of men,
+he does not fail in his portraits of women; though as a rule these are
+more general--in the nature of a composite photograph--than particular.
+The day for minute analysis of feminine character had not arrived, and
+in all Gogol's works there is, properly speaking, no such thing as the
+heroine playing a first-class rôle, whether of the antique or the modern
+pattern.
+
+Gogol's great historical novel, 'Taras Bulba,' which deals with the
+famous Kazak republic of the Dniepr Falls (Zaporózhya), stands equally
+with his other volumes of the first rank in poetry, dramatic power, and
+truth to life. It possesses also a force of tragedy and passion in love
+which are altogether lacking, or but faintly indicated, in his other
+masterpieces.
+
+                                      [Signature: Isabel F. Hapgood]
+
+
+
+FROM 'THE INSPECTOR'
+
+
+    _Scene_: _A room in the house of the Chief of Police.
+
+    _Present_: _Chief of Police, Curator of Benevolent Institutions,
+    Superintendent of Schools, Judge, Commissary of Police, Doctor,
+    two Policemen._
+
+_Chief_--I have summoned you, gentlemen, in order to communicate to you an
+unpleasant piece of news: an Inspector is coming.
+
+_Judge_--What! An Inspector?
+
+_Chief_--An Inspector from St. Petersburg, incognito. And with secret
+orders, to boot.
+
+_Judge_--I thought so!
+
+_Curator_--If there's not trouble, then I'm mistaken!
+
+_Superintendent_--Heavens! And with secret orders, too!
+
+_Chief_--I foresaw it: all last night I was dreaming of two huge rats; I
+never saw such rats: they were black, and of supernatural size! They
+came, and smelled, and went away. I will read you the letter I have
+received from Andrei Ivan'itch Tchorikoff,--whom you know, Artemiy
+Philip'itch. This is what he writes:--"Dear friend, gossip and
+benefactor!" [_Mutters in an undertone, as he runs his eye quickly over
+it._] "I hasten to inform you, among other things, that an official has
+arrived with orders to inspect the entire government, and our district
+in particular." [_Raises his finger significantly._] "I have heard this
+from trustworthy people, although he represents himself as a private
+individual. As I know that you are not quite free from faults, since you
+are a sensible man, and do not like to let slip what runs into your
+hands--" [_Pauses._] Well, here are some remarks about his own
+affairs--"so I advise you to be on your guard: for he may arrive at any
+moment, if he is not already arrived and living somewhere incognito.
+Yesterday--" Well, what follows is about family matters--"My sister Anna
+Kirilovna has come with her husband; Ivan Kirilitch has grown very fat,
+and still plays the violin--" and so forth, and so forth. So there you
+have the whole matter.
+
+_Judge_--Yes, the matter is so unusual, so remarkable; something
+unexpected.
+
+_Superintendent_--And why? Anton Anton'itch, why is this? Why is the
+Inspector coming hither?
+
+_Chief_ [_sighs_]--Why? Evidently, it is fate. [_Sighs._] Up to this
+time, God be praised, they have attended to other towns; now our turn
+has come.
+
+_Judge_--I think, Anton Anton'itch, that there is some fine political
+cause at the bottom of this. This means something: Russia--yes--Russia
+wants to go to war, and the minister, you see, has sent an official to
+find out whether there is any treason.
+
+_Chief_--What's got hold of him? A sensible man, truly! Treason in a
+provincial town! Is it a border town--is it, now? Why, you could ride
+away from here for three years and not reach any other kingdom.
+
+_Judge_--No, I tell you. You don't--you don't--The government has subtle
+reasons; no matter if it is out of the way, they don't care for that.
+
+_Chief_--Whether they care or not, I have warned you, gentlemen. See to
+it! I have made some arrangements in my own department, and I advise you
+to do the same. Especially you, Artemiy Philip'itch! Without doubt, this
+traveling official will wish first of all to inspect your
+institutions--and therefore you must arrange things so that they will be
+decent. The nightcaps should be clean, and the sick people should not
+look like blacksmiths, as they usually do in private.
+
+_Curator_--Well, that's a mere trifle. We can put clean nightcaps on
+them.
+
+_Chief_--And then, you ought to have written up over the head of each
+bed, in Latin or some other language--that's your business--the name of
+each disease: when each patient was taken sick, the day and hour. It is
+not well that your sick people should smoke such strong tobacco that one
+has to sneeze every time he goes in there. Yes, and it would be better
+if there were fewer of them: it will be set down at once to bad
+supervision or to lack of skill on the doctor's part.
+
+_Curator_--Oh! so far as the doctoring is concerned, Christian
+Ivan'itch and I have already taken measures: the nearer to nature the
+better,--we don't use any expensive medicines. Man is a simple creature:
+if he dies, why then he dies; if he gets well, why then he gets well.
+And then, it would have been difficult for Christian Ivan'itch to make
+them understand him--he doesn't know one word of Russian.
+
+_Chief_--I should also advise you, Ammos Feodor'itch, to turn your
+attention to court affairs. In the ante-room, where the clients usually
+assemble, your janitor has got a lot of geese and goslings, which waddle
+about under foot. Of course it is praiseworthy to be thrifty in domestic
+affairs, and why should not the janitor be so too? only, you know, it is
+not proper in that place. I meant to mention it to you before, but
+always forgot it.
+
+_Judge_--I'll order them to be taken to the kitchen this very day. Will
+you come and dine with me?
+
+_Chief_--And moreover, it is not well that all sorts of stuff should be
+put to dry in the court-room, and that over the very desk, with the
+documents, there should be a hunting-whip. I know that you are fond of
+hunting, but there is a proper time for everything, and you can hang it
+up there again when the Inspector takes his departure. And then your
+assistant--he's a man of experience, but there's a smell about him as
+though he had just come from a distillery--and that's not as it should
+be. I meant to speak to you about it long ago, but something, I don't
+recall now precisely what, put it out of my mind. There is a remedy, if
+he really was born with the odor, as he asserts: you might advise him
+to eat onions or garlic or something. In that case, Christian Ivan'itch
+could assist you with some medicaments.
+
+_Judge_--No, it's impossible to drive it out: he says that his mother
+injured him when he was a child, and an odor of whisky has emanated from
+him ever since.
+
+_Chief_--Yes, I just remarked on it. As for internal arrangements, and
+what Andrei Ivan'itch in his letter calls "faults," I can say nothing.
+Yes, and strange to say, there is no man who has not his faults. God
+himself arranged it so, and it is useless for the freethinkers to
+maintain the contrary.
+
+_Judge_--What do you mean by faults, Anton Anton'itch? There are various
+sorts of faults. I tell every one frankly that I take bribes; but what
+sort of bribes? greyhound pups. That's quite another thing.
+
+_Chief_--Well, greyhound pups or anything else, it's all the same.
+
+_Judge_--Well, no, Anton Anton'itch. But for example, if some one has a
+fur coat worth five hundred rubles, and his wife has a shawl--
+
+_Chief_--Well, and how about your taking greyhound pups as bribes? Why
+don't you trust in God? You never go to church. I am firm in the faith,
+at all events, and go to church every Sunday. But you--oh, I know you!
+If you begin to talk about the creation of the world, one's hair rises
+straight up on his head.
+
+_Judge_--It came of itself, of its own accord.
+
+_Chief_--Well, in some cases it is worse to have brains than to be
+entirely without them. Besides, I only just mentioned the district
+court: but to tell the truth, it is only very rarely that any one ever
+looks in there; 'tis such an enviable place that God himself protects
+it. And as for you, Luka Luk'itch, as superintendent of schools, you
+must bestir yourself with regard to the teachers. They are educated
+people, to be sure, and were reared at divers academies, but they have
+very peculiar ways which go naturally with that learned profession. One
+of them, for instance, the fat-faced one,--I don't recall his
+name,--cannot get along without making grimaces when he takes his
+seat;--like this [_makes a grimace_]: and then he begins to smooth his
+beard out from under his neckerchief, with his hand. In short, if he
+makes such faces at the scholars, there is nothing to be said: it must
+be necessary; I am no judge of that. But just consider--if he were to
+do that to a visitor it might be very unpleasant; the Inspector or any
+one else might take it as personal. The Devil knows what might come of
+it.
+
+_Superintendent_--What am I to do with him? I have spoken to him about
+it several times already. A few days ago, when our chief went into the
+class-room, he made such a grimace as I never beheld before. He made it
+out of good-will; but it is a judgment on me, because freethinking is
+being inculcated in the young people.
+
+_Chief_--And I must also mention the teacher of history. He's a wise
+man, that's plain, and has acquired a great mass of learning; but he
+expresses himself with so much warmth that he loses control of himself.
+I heard him once: well, so long as he was talking about the Assyrians
+and Babylonians, it was all right; but when he got to Alexander of
+Macedon, I can't describe to you what came over him. I thought there was
+a fire, by heavens! He jumped from his seat and dashed his chair to the
+floor with all his might. Alexander of Macedon was a hero, no doubt; but
+why smash the chairs? There will be a deficit in the accounts, just as
+the result of that.
+
+_Superintendent_--Yes, he is hasty! I have remarked on it to him several
+times. He says, "What would you have? I would sacrifice my life for
+science."
+
+_Chief_--Yes, such is the incomprehensible decree of fate: a learned man
+is always a drunkard, or else he makes faces that would scare the very
+saints.
+
+_Superintendent_--God forbid that he should inspect the educational
+institutions. Everybody meddles and tries to show everybody else that he
+is a learned man.
+
+_Chief_--That would be nothing: that cursed incognito! All of a sudden
+you hear--"Ah, here you are, my little dears! And who," says he, "is the
+Judge here?"--"Lyapkin-Tyapkin."--"And who is the Superintendent of the
+Hospital?"--"Zemlyanika!" That's the worst of it!
+
+    _Enter_ Postmaster
+
+_Chief_---Well, how do you feel, Ivan Kusmitch?
+
+_Postmaster_--How do I feel? How do _you_ feel, Anton Anton'itch?
+
+_Chief_--How do I feel? I'm not afraid; and yet I am,--a little. The
+merchants and citizens cause me some anxiety. They say I have been hard
+with them; but God knows, if I have ever taken anything from them it was
+not out of malice. I even think [_takes him by the arm and leads him
+aside_]--I even think there may be a sort of complaint against me. Why,
+in fact, is the Inspector coming to us? Listen, Ivan Kusmitch: why can't
+you--for our common good, you know--open every letter which passes
+through your office, going or coming, and read it, to see whether it
+contains a complaint or is simply correspondence? If it does not, then
+you can seal it up again. Besides, you could even deliver the letter
+unsealed.
+
+_Postmaster_--I know, I know. You can't tell me anything about that; I
+always do it, not out of circumspection but out of curiosity: I'm deadly
+fond of knowing what is going on in the world. It's very interesting
+reading, I can tell you! It is a real treat to read some letters: they
+contain such descriptions of occurrences, and they're so
+improving--better than the Moscow News.
+
+     [The play proceeds: two men, the town busybodies, happen to
+     find at the inn a traveler who has been living on credit and
+     going nowhere for two weeks. The landlord is about to put his
+     lodger in prison for debt, when these men jump to the
+     conclusion that he is the Inspector. The Prefect and other
+     terrified officials accept the suggestion, in spite of his
+     plain statement as to his identity. They set about making the
+     town presentable, entertain and bribe him, and bow down to
+     him. He accepts their hospitality, asks loans, makes love to
+     the Prefect's silly wife and daughter, betroths himself to
+     the latter, receives the petitions and bribes of the
+     oppressed townspeople,--and drives off with the best
+     post-horses the town can furnish, ostensibly to ask the
+     blessing of his rich old uncle on his marriage. The
+     Postmaster intercepts a letter which he has written to a
+     friend. Its revelations, and the ridicule which he therein
+     casts on his hosts, open their eyes at last. At that moment a
+     gendarme appears and announces that the Inspector has
+     arrived. Tableau.]
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by Isabel F. Hapgood
+
+
+
+OLD-FASHIONED GENTRY
+
+From 'Mirgorod'
+
+
+I am very fond of the modest life of those isolated owners of remote
+estates which are generally called "old-fashioned" in Little Russia, and
+which, like ruinous and picturesque houses, are beautiful through their
+simplicity and complete contrast to a new and regular building whose
+walls have never yet been washed by the rain, whose roof has not yet
+been overgrown with moss, and whose porch, still possessed of its
+stucco, does not yet display its red bricks. I can still see the
+low-roofed little house, with its veranda of slender, blackened wooden
+columns, surrounding it on all sides, so that in case of a thunder-storm
+or a hail-storm you could close the window shutters without getting wet;
+behind it fragrant wild-cherry trees, row upon row of dwarf fruit-trees,
+overtopped by crimson cherries and a purple sea of plums, covered with a
+lead-colored bloom, luxuriant maples under whose shade rugs were spread
+for repose; in front of the house the spacious yard, with short fresh
+grass, through which paths had been worn from the storehouses to the
+kitchen, from the kitchen to the apartments of the family; a long-necked
+goose drinking water with her young goslings, soft as down; the picket
+fence festooned with bunches of dried apples and pears, and rugs hung
+out to air; a cart-load of melons standing near the store-house, the
+oxen unyoked and lying lazily beside it. All this has for me an
+indescribable charm,--perhaps because I no longer see it, and because
+anything from which we are separated pleases us.
+
+But more than all else, the owners of this distant nook,--an old man and
+old woman,--hastening eagerly out to meet me, gave me pleasure. Afanasy
+Ivanovitch Tovstogub and his wife, Pulkheria Ivanovna Tovstogubikha,
+according to the neighboring peasants' way of expressing it, were the
+old people of whom I began to speak. If I were a painter and wished to
+depict Philemon and Baucis on canvas, I could have found no better
+models than they. Afanasy Ivanovitch was sixty years old, Pulkheria
+Ivanovna was fifty-five. Afanasy Ivanovitch was tall, always wore a
+short sheepskin coat covered with camlet, sat all doubled up, and was
+almost always smiling, whether he were telling a story or only listening
+to one. Pulkheria Ivanovna was rather serious, and hardly ever laughed;
+but her face and eyes expressed so much goodness, so much eagerness to
+treat you to all the best they owned, that you would probably have found
+a smile too repelling on her kind face. The delicate wrinkles were so
+agreeably disposed on their countenances that an artist would certainly
+have appropriated them. It seemed as though in them you might read their
+whole life: the pure, peaceful life led by the old, patriotic,
+simple-hearted, and at the same time wealthy families, which always
+present a marked contrast to those baser Little-Russians who work up
+from tar-burners and peddlers, throng the court-rooms like grasshoppers,
+squeeze the last copper from their fellow-countrymen, crowd Petersburg
+with scandal-mongers, finally acquire capital, and triumphantly add an
+_f_ to their surnames which end in _o_. No, they did not resemble those
+despicable and miserable creatures, but all ancient and native
+Little-Russian families.
+
+They never had any children, so all their affection was concentrated on
+themselves.
+
+The rooms of the little house in which our old couple dwelt were small,
+low-ceiled, such as are generally to be seen with old-fashioned people.
+In each room stood a huge stove, which occupied nearly one-third of the
+space. These little rooms were frightfully hot, because both Afanasy
+Ivanovitch and Pulkheria Ivanovna were fond of heat. All their fuel was
+stored in the ante-room, which was always filled nearly to the ceiling
+with straw, which is generally used in Little Russia in place of wood.
+
+The chairs of the room were of wood, and massive, in the style which
+generally marked those of the olden times: all had high, turned backs of
+natural wood, without any paint or varnish; they were not even
+upholstered, and somewhat resembled those which are still used by
+bishops. Triangular tables stood in the corners, a square table stood in
+front of the sofa; and there was a large mirror in a slender gilt frame,
+carved in foliage, which the flies had covered with black spots; in
+front of the sofa was a mat with flowers which resembled birds, and
+birds which resembled flowers: and these things constituted almost the
+entire furniture of the far from elegant little house where my old
+people lived. The maids' room was filled with young and elderly
+serving-women in striped chemises, to whom Pulkheria Ivanovna sometimes
+gave trifles to sew, and whom she set to picking over berries, but who
+ran about the kitchen or slept the greater part of the time. Pulkheria
+Ivanovna regarded it as a necessity that she should keep them in the
+house, and she kept a strict watch of their morals; but to no purpose.
+
+Afanasy Ivan'itch very rarely occupied himself with the farming;
+although he sometimes went out to see the mowers and reapers, and gazed
+with great intensity at their work. All the burden of management
+devolved upon Pulkheria Ivan'na. Pulkheria Ivanovna's housekeeping
+consisted of a constant locking and unlocking of the storehouse, of
+salting, drying, and preserving incalculable quantities of fruits and
+vegetables. Her house was exactly like a chemical laboratory. A fire was
+constantly laid under an apple-tree; and the kettle or the brass pan
+with preserves, jelly, marmalade,--made with honey, with sugar, and with
+I know not what else,--was hardly ever taken from the tripod. Under
+another tree the coachman was forever distilling vodka with
+peach-leaves, with wild cherry, cherry flowers, wild gentian, or
+cherry-stones, in a copper still; and at the end of the process he was
+never able to control his tongue, but chattered all sorts of nonsense
+which Pulkheria Ivanovna did not understand, and took himself off to the
+kitchen to sleep. Such a quantity of all this stuff was preserved,
+salted, and dried that it would probably have overwhelmed the whole yard
+at least (for Pulkheria Ivanovna liked to lay in a store far beyond what
+was calculated for consumption), if the greater part of it had not been
+devoured by the maid-servants, who crept into the storehouse and overate
+themselves to such a fearful extent that they groaned and complained of
+their stomachs for a whole day afterwards.
+
+Both the old folks, in accordance with old-fashioned customs, were very
+fond of eating. As soon as daylight dawned (they always rose early) and
+the doors had begun their many-toned concert of squeaks, they sat down
+at the table and drank coffee. When Afanasy Ivanovitch had drunk his
+coffee, he went out, flirted his handkerchief, and said, "Kish, kish! go
+away from the veranda, geese!" In the yard he generally encountered the
+steward: he usually entered into conversation with him, inquired about
+the work of the estate with the greatest minuteness, and imparted to him
+such a multitude of observations and orders as would have caused any one
+to marvel at his understanding of business; and no novice would have
+ventured to conjecture that so acute a master could be robbed. But his
+steward was a clever rascal: he knew well what answers he must give, and
+better still how to manage things.
+
+This done, Afanasy Ivanovitch returned to the house, and approaching
+Pulkheria Ivanovna, said, "Well, Pulkheria Ivan'na, is it time to eat
+something, do you think?"
+
+"What shall we have to eat now, Afanasy Ivan'itch,--some wheat and suet
+cakes, or some patties with poppy-seeds, or some salted mushrooms?"
+
+"Some mushrooms, then, or some patties, if you please," said Afanasy
+Ivan'itch; and then suddenly a table-cloth would make its appearance on
+the table, with the patties and mushrooms.
+
+An hour before dinner Afanasy Ivan'itch took another snack, and drank
+vodka from an ancient silver cup, ate mushrooms, divers dried fishes,
+and other things. They sat down to dine at twelve o'clock. There stood
+upon the table, in addition to the platters and sauce-boats, a multitude
+of pots with covers pasted on, that the appetizing products of the
+savory old-fashioned cooking might not be exhaled abroad. At dinner the
+conversation turned upon subjects closely connected with the meal.
+
+After dinner Afanasy Ivanovitch went to lie down for an hour, at the end
+of which time Pulkheria Ivanovna brought him a sliced watermelon and
+said, "Here, try this, Afanasy Ivan'itch; see what a good melon it is."
+
+"Don't put faith in it because it is red in the centre, Pulkheria
+Ivan'na," said Afanasy Ivanovitch, taking a good-sized chunk. "Sometimes
+they are not good though they are red."
+
+But the watermelon slowly disappeared. Then Afanasy Ivanovitch ate a few
+pears, and went out into the garden for a walk with Pulkheria Ivanovna.
+When they returned to the house, Pulkheria Ivanovna went about her own
+affairs; but he sat down on the veranda facing the yard, and observed
+how the interior of the store-room was alternately disclosed and
+revealed, and how the girls jostled each other as they carried in or
+brought out all sorts of stuff in wooden boxes, sieves, trays, and other
+receptacles for fruit. After waiting a while, he sent for Pulkheria
+Ivanovna or went in search of her himself, and said, "What is there for
+me to eat, Pulkheria Ivan'na?"
+
+"What is there?" asked Pulkheria Ivanovna. "Shall I go and tell them to
+bring you some curd dumplings with berries, which I had set aside for
+you?"
+
+"That would be good," answered Afanasy Ivanovitch.
+
+"Or perhaps you could eat some kisel?" [A jelly-like pudding, made of
+potato flour, and flavored with some sour fruit juice.]
+
+"That is good also," replied Afanasy Invanovitch; whereupon all of them
+were immediately brought and eaten in due course.
+
+Before supper Afanasy Invanovitch took another appetizing snack.
+
+At half-past nine they sat down to supper. After supper they went
+directly to bed, and universal silence settled down upon this busy yet
+quiet nook.
+
+The chamber in which Afanasy Ivanovitch and Pulkheria Ivanovna slept was
+so hot that very few people could have stayed in it more than a few
+hours; but Afanasy Ivanovitch, for the sake of more warmth, slept upon
+the stove bench, although the excessive heat caused him to rise several
+times in the course of the night and walk about the room. Sometimes
+Afanasy Ivanovitch groaned as he walked thus about the room.
+
+Then Pulkheria Ivanovna inquired, "Why do you groan, Afanasy Ivan'itch?"
+
+"God knows, Pulkheria Ivan'na! It seems to me that my stomach aches a
+little," said Afanasy Ivanovitch.
+
+"Hadn't you better eat something, Afanasy Ivan'itch?"
+
+"I don't know; perhaps it would be well, Pulkheria Ivan'na: by the way,
+what is there to eat?"
+
+"Sour milk, or some stewed dried pears."
+
+"If you please, I will try them," said Afanasy Ivanovitch. A sleepy maid
+was sent to ransack the cupboards, and Afanasy Ivanovitch ate a
+plateful; after which he remarked, "Now I seem to feel relieved."
+
+I loved to visit them; and though I over-ate myself horribly, like all
+their guests, and although it was very bad for me, still I was always
+glad to go to them. Besides, I think that the air of Little Russia must
+possess some special properties which aid digestion; for if any one were
+to undertake to eat in that way here, there is not a doubt but that he
+would find himself lying on the table a corpse, instead of in bed.
+
+Pulkheria Ivanovna had a little gray cat, which almost always lay coiled
+up in a ball at her feet. Pulkheria Ivanovna stroked her occasionally,
+and tickled her neck with her finger, the petted cat stretching it out
+as long as possible. It would not be correct to affirm that Pulkheria
+Ivanovna loved her so very much, but she had simply become attached to
+her from seeing her continually about. Afanasy Ivanovitch often joked
+about the attachment.
+
+Behind their garden lay a large forest, which had been spared by the
+enterprising steward, possibly because the sound of the axe might have
+reached the ears of Pulkheria Ivanovna. It was dense, neglected; the old
+tree trunks were concealed by luxuriant hazel-bushes, and resembled the
+feathered legs of pigeons. In this wood dwelt wild cats. These cats had
+a long conference with Pulkheria Ivanovna's tame cat through a hole
+under the storehouse, and at last led her astray, as a detachment of
+soldiers leads astray a dull-witted peasant. Pulkheria Ivanovna noticed
+that her cat was missing, and caused search to be made for her; but no
+cat was to be found. Three days passed; Pulkheria Ivanovna felt sorry,
+but in the end forgot all about her loss.
+
+     [The cat returns to the place half starved, and is coaxed to
+     come into the house and eat, but runs away on Pulkheria
+     Ivanovna's trying to pet her.]
+
+The old woman became pensive. "It is my death which is come for me," she
+said to herself; and nothing could cheer her. All day she was sad. In
+vain did Afanasy Ivanovitch jest, and seek to discover why she had
+suddenly grown so grave. Pulkheria Ivanovna either made no reply, or one
+which did not in the least satisfy Afanasy Ivanovitch. The next day she
+had grown visibly thinner.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Pulkheria Ivanovna? You are not ill?"
+
+"No, I am not ill, Afanasy Ivan'itch. I want to tell you about a strange
+occurrence, I know that I shall die this year; my death has already come
+for me."
+
+Afanasy Ivanovitch's mouth was distorted with pain. Nevertheless he
+tried to conquer the sad feeling in his mind, and said smiling, "God
+only knows what you are talking about, Pulkheria Ivan'na! You must have
+drunk some of your peach infusion instead of your usual herb tea."
+
+"No, Afanasy Ivan'itch, I have not drunk my peach infusion," replied
+Pulkheria Ivanovna. "I beg of you, Afanasy Ivan'itch, to fulfill my
+wishes. When I die, bury me by the church wall. Put on me my grayish
+gown,--the one with the small flowers on a cinnamon ground. My satin
+gown with the red stripes you must not put on me: a corpse needs no
+clothes; of what use are they to her? But it will be good for you. Make
+yourself a fine dressing-gown, in case visitors come, so that you can
+make a good appearance when you receive them."
+
+"God knows what you are saying, Pulkheria Ivan'na!" said Afanasy
+Ivanovitch. "Death will come some time; but you frighten me with such
+remarks."
+
+"Mind, Yavdokha," she said, turning to the housekeeper, whom she had
+sent for expressly, "that you look after your master when I am dead, and
+cherish him like the apple of your eye, like your own child. See that
+everything he likes is prepared in the kitchen; that his linen and
+clothes are always clean; that when visitors happen in, you dress him
+properly, otherwise he will come forth in his old dressing-gown, for he
+often forgets now whether it is a festival or an ordinary day."
+
+Poor old woman! She had no thought for the great moment which was
+awaiting her, nor of her soul, nor of the future life; she thought only
+of her poor companion, with whom she had passed her life, and whom she
+was about to leave an orphan and unprotected. After this fashion did she
+arrange everything with great skill, so that after her death Afanasy
+Ivanovitch might not perceive her absence. Her faith in her approaching
+end was so firm, and her mind was so fixed upon it, that in a few days
+she actually took to her bed, and was unable to swallow any nourishment.
+
+Afanasy Ivanovitch was all attention, and never left her bedside.
+"Perhaps you could eat something, Pulkheria Ivan'na," he said, gazing
+uneasily into her eyes. But Pulkheria Ivanovna made no reply. At length,
+after a long silence, she moved her lips as though desirous of saying
+something--and her spirit fled.
+
+Afanasy Ivanovitch was utterly amazed. It seemed to him so terrible that
+he did not even weep. He gazed at her with troubled eyes, as though he
+did not understand the meaning of a corpse.
+
+Five years passed. Being in the vicinity at the end of the five years, I
+went to the little estate of Afanasy Ivanovitch, to inquire after my old
+neighbor, with whom I had spent the day so agreeably in former times,
+dining always on the choicest delicacies of his kind-hearted wife. When
+I drove up to the door, the house seemed twice as old as formerly; the
+peasants' cottages were lying on one side, without doubt exactly like
+their owners; the fence and hedge around the yard were dilapidated; and
+I myself saw the cook pull out a paling to heat the stove, when she had
+only a couple of steps to take in order to get the kindling-wood which
+had been piled there expressly for her use. I stepped sadly upon the
+veranda; the same dogs, now blind or with broken legs, raised their
+bushy tails, all matted with burs, and barked.
+
+The old man came out to meet me. So this was he! I recognized him at
+once, but he was twice as bent as formerly. He knew me, and greeted me
+with the smile which was so familiar to me. I followed him into the
+room. All there seemed as in the past; but I observed a strange
+disorder, a tangible loss of something. In everything was visible the
+absence of the painstaking Pulkheria Ivanovna. At table, they gave us a
+knife without a handle; the dishes were prepared with little art. I did
+not care to inquire about the management of the estate; I was even
+afraid to glance at the farm buildings. I tried to interest Afanasy
+Ivanovitch in something, and told him divers bits of news. He listened
+with his customary smile, but his glance was at times quite
+unintelligent; and thoughts did not wander therein--they simply
+disappeared.
+
+"This is the dish--" said Afanasy Ivanovitch when they brought us curds
+and flour with cream, "--this is the dish--" he continued, and I
+observed that his voice began to quiver, and that tears were on the
+point of bursting from his leaden eyes; but he collected all his
+strength in the effort to repress them: "this is the dish which
+the--the--the de--ceas--" and his tears suddenly gushed forth, his hand
+fell upon his plate, the plate was overturned, flew from the table, and
+was broken. He sat stupidly, holding the spoon, and tears like a
+never-ceasing fountain flowed, flowed in streams down upon his napkin.
+
+He did not live long after this. I heard of his death recently. What was
+strange, though, was that the circumstances attending it somewhat
+resembled those connected with the death of Pulkheria Ivanovna. One day,
+Afanasy Ivanovitch decided to take a short stroll in the garden. As he
+went slowly down the path with his usual heedlessness, a strange thing
+happened to him. All at once he heard some one behind him say in a
+distinct voice, "Afanasy Ivan'itch!" He turned round, but there was no
+one there. He looked on all sides; he peered into the shrubbery,--no one
+anywhere. The day was calm and the sun was shining brightly. He pondered
+for a moment. Then his face lighted up, and at last he cried, "It is
+Pulkheria Ivanovna calling me!"
+
+He surrendered himself utterly to the moral conviction that Pulkheria
+Ivanovna was calling him. He yielded with the meekness of a submissive
+child, withered up, coughed, melted away like a candle, and at last
+expired like it when nothing remains to feed its poor flame. "Lay me
+beside Pulkheria Ivan'na"--that was all he said before his death.
+
+His wish was fulfilled; and they buried him beside the churchyard wall
+close to Pulkheria Ivanovna's grave. The guests at the funeral were few,
+but there was a throng of common and poor people. The house was already
+quite deserted. The enterprising clerk and village elder carried off to
+their cottages all the old household utensils which the housekeeper did
+not manage to appropriate.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by Isabel F. Hapgood
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: CARLO GOLDONI.]
+
+
+
+
+CARLO GOLDONI
+
+(1707-1793)
+
+BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON
+
+
+Italy is generally felt to be, above all other lands, the natural home
+of the drama. In acting, as in music, indeed, the sceptre has never
+wholly passed from her: Ristori and Salvini certainly are not yet
+forgotten. The Græco-Roman comedies of Plautus and Terence, the
+rhetorical tragedy of Seneca, have had a far more direct hand in molding
+the modern dramatists' art than have the loftier creative masterpieces
+of the great Attic Four. Indeed, Latin has never become in Italy a
+really dead language, remote from the popular consciousness. The
+splendor of the Church ritual, the great mass of the educated clergy,
+the almost purely Latin roots of the vernacular, have made such a loss
+impossible.
+
+In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries Terence and Plautus were often
+revived on the stage, still oftener imitated in Latin. Many of the
+greatest names in modern Italian literature are in some degree
+associated with drama. Thus Machiavelli made free Italian versions from
+both the comic Latin poets, and wrote a powerful though immoral prose
+comedy, 'The Magic Draught' (Mandragola). Tasso's 'Aminta' is as sweet
+and musical, and hardly so artificial, as that famous 'Pastor Fido' of
+Guarini, which has become the ideal type of all the mock-pastoral comedy
+out of which the modern opera has risen.
+
+So, when Goldoni is hailed as the father of modern Italian comedy, it
+can only mean that his prolific Muse has dominated the stage in our own
+century and in its native land. In his delightfully naïve Memoirs he
+frequently announces himself as the leader of _reform_ in the dramatic
+art. And this claim is better founded; though there is a startling
+discrepancy between the character, the temper, the life of this child of
+the sun, and the Anglo-Saxon ideal of "Man the Reformer" as delineated,
+for instance, by our own cooler-blooded Emerson!
+
+Under the lead of Goldoni's elder contemporary Metastasio, the lyrical
+drama of pastoral and artificial love had become fully wedded to music;
+and it is rightly felt that the resulting modern opera is a genus of its
+own, not essentially nor chiefly dramatic in character and aims. An
+opera can be sung without action; it cannot be acted without music. On
+the other hand, the farce had become almost restricted to the stock
+masked characters, Pantaloon, the Dottore, Arlecchino, and the rest,
+with a narrow range of childish buffoonery in the action. The companies
+of professional actors, endowed with that marvelous power of
+improvisation which the very language of Italy seems to stimulate,
+hardly permitted the poet to offer them more than a mere outline of a
+shallow plot, to be filled in from scene to scene at the impulse of the
+moment on the stage!
+
+Under these circumstances it was indeed necessary to reclaim the rights
+of the dramatic poet, to reduce to decent limits the "gag" which the
+comic actor has doubtless always been eager to use, and also to educate
+or beguile his public up to the point of lending a moderately attentive
+ear to a play of sustained interest and culminating plot. In this
+seemingly modest but really most difficult task, Goldoni scored a
+decided success,--a triumph.
+
+Even his checkered life as a whole was, at eighty, in his own retrospect
+a happy comedy, mingled with few serious reverses and hardly darkened at
+all by remorse. Such lives at best are nowise numerous. Adequate
+self-portraitures of successful artists are so rare that the
+autobiographies of the gentle Goldoni, and of his savage
+fellow-countryman Benvenuto Cellini, almost form a class of literature
+by themselves.
+
+Born in Venice in fair social position, Goldoni spent his childhood
+chiefly in Chiozza, a ruder and humbler miniature of the island city
+some twenty-five miles away. Though an incurable wanderer,--indeed, so
+filled with the true Bohemian's feverish love for change that he never
+could endure even success anywhere for many summers,--he yet gave more
+of his best years, and a heartier loyalty, to Venice than to any other
+home. He knew best, and delineated best, the ordinary life of the
+lagoons. Mr. Howells, himself by long residence and love a
+half-Venetian, declares that the comedies in the local dialect are
+invariably the best, and next best the Italian plays whose scenes are at
+least laid in Venice. Perhaps the critic is here himself unduly swayed
+by his affections. Goldoni knew well nearly all Italian lands. He had
+even, for a series of years, a career as an advocate in Pisa. "My comic
+genius was not extinguished, but suppressed," he explains. He did not
+even then give up play-writing, and a traveling theatre manager easily
+beguiled him back to Venice. This was in 1747, and this same manager,
+Medebac, setting up a new theatre in Venice, absorbed Goldoni's energies
+for several years. It was in 1750 that he successfully carried out a
+rash vow to produce sixteen new comedies in a single year! Among these
+are a goodly number of his best, including 'The Coffee-House,' from
+which a few scenes are given below.
+
+Though he passed over into the service of a different theatre, traveled
+constantly with his actors, accepted invitations to Parma, Rome, etc.,
+to oversee the performance of his plays, yet he never gave up his home
+in Venice altogether, until summoned to Paris in 1761. These fourteen
+years, moreover, form the happiest period of his life. His income from
+the theatres, from published editions of his comedies, and from his
+inherited property, would have made him wealthy, but for his extravagant
+and careless mode of life.
+
+Despite one notable success in French with the comedy 'The Surly
+Benefactor' (1771), Goldoni's life in France was relatively unprofitable
+and ignoble. He became Italian teacher of various royal princesses, with
+the utmost uncertainty and delay as to his salaries or pensions. Yet he
+could never break the fascination of Paris. The art of the French actors
+was a never-failing delight to him. There, at the age of eighty, in
+French, he wrote and published his 'Memoirs.' The Revolution swept away
+his negligent patrons. In poverty and utter neglect he died at last,
+just as the republicans were ready to restore his royal pension.
+
+Goldoni was the child of Italy and of the eighteenth century. He had no
+serious quarrel with his environment. He was not greatly superior, in
+actual character or aspirations, to his associates. His affection for
+his devoted wife did not save him from many a wandering passion. The
+promising prima donnas, in particular, found in him an all too devoted
+instructor and protector. The gaming-table and the lottery are
+apparently irresistible to any true Italian, and Goldoni knew by heart
+the passions which he ridicules or condemns, though without bitterness,
+upon his stage. His oft-repeated claim to have reformed the Italian
+theatre meant chiefly this: that between the lyrical drama of Metastasio
+on the one hand, and the popular masque with stock characters on the
+other,--and while contributing to both these forms of art,--he did
+firmly establish the comedy of plot and dialogue, carefully learned and
+rehearsed, in which the players must speak the speech as it is
+pronounced to them by the poet.
+
+Goldoni himself acknowledges, perhaps not too sincerely, in his Parisian
+memoirs, the superiority, the mastership, of Molière. In truth, the
+great Frenchman stands, with Aristophanes and Shakespeare, upon a lonely
+height quite unapproached by lesser devotees of Thalia. We must not seek
+in Goldoni a prober of the human heart, not even a fearless satirist of
+social conditions. In his rollicking good-humor and content with the
+world as he finds it, Goldoni is much like Plautus. He is moreover under
+a censorship hardly less severe. He dares not, for instance, introduce
+upon his stage any really offensive type of Venetian nobleman. As for
+religious dictation, the convent must not even be mentioned, though the
+_aunt_ with whom the young lady is visiting sometimes becomes as
+transparent an idiom as the "uncle" of a spendthrift cockney! The
+audience, moreover, demand only diversion, not serious instruction (as
+Goethe complains, even of his grave Germans, in the 'Prolog im
+Theater'). It is remarkable, under all these conditions, how healthy,
+how kindly, how proper, most of Goldoni's work is. Doubtless, like
+Goldsmith, he could preach the more gracefully, persuasively, and
+unobservedly, because he never attempted to escape from the very vices
+or indulgences that he satirizes. But even the most determined seeker
+for the moral element in art will find little indeed thereof in
+Goldoni's merry comedies. Incredible as it seems to us Puritans, he
+really made it his mission to amuse. Thoroughly in love with the rather
+ignoble, trivial life of his day, he holds the dramatic mirror up to it
+with lifelong optimism and enjoyment. His wit is not keen, his poetic
+imagination is slight indeed. Aside from the true dramatist's skill in
+construction, in plot, his power lies chiefly in the rapid, clear, firm
+outlines of his character-drawing. These characters are for the most
+part just about such men and women, such creatures of impulse and whim,
+such genial mingling of naughtiness and good intentions, as we see about
+us. He never delineates a saint or a hero; hardly a monster of
+wickedness. He had never known either, and would not have been
+interested if he had. The charm of Goldoni is felt chiefly in Venice, or
+at least in Italy, while listening to his comedy and watching the
+enjoyment mirrored in the faces of his own audience. It evaporates in
+translation, and his plays are meant only to be heard, not read. To Mr.
+Howells's own affectionate testimony we may add his happy citation from
+Goethe, who is writing from Venice in 1786:
+
+     "Yesterday, at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed 'Le
+     Baruffe-Chiozotte,' which I should interpret 'The Frays and
+     Feuds of Chiozza.' The _dramatis personæ_ are principally
+     seafaring people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with their wives,
+     sisters, and daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of
+     such sort of people in their good or ill luck,--their
+     dealings one with another, their vehemence but goodness of
+     heart, commonplace remarks and unaffected manners, their
+     naive wit and humor,--all this was excellently imitated. The
+     piece moreover is Goldoni's, and as I had been only the day
+     before in the place itself, and as the tones and manners of
+     the sailors and people of the seaport still echoed in my ears
+     and floated before my eyes, it delighted me very much; and
+     although I did not understand a single allusion, I was
+     nevertheless, on the whole, able to follow it pretty well....
+     I never witnessed anything like the noisy delight the people
+     evinced at seeing themselves and their mates represented with
+     such truth of nature. It was one continued laugh and
+     tumultuous shout of exultation from beginning to end....
+     Great praise is due to the author, who out of nothing has
+     here created the most amusing _divertissement_. However, he
+     never could have done it with any other people than his own
+     merry and light-hearted countrymen."
+
+Of Goldoni's one hundred and sixty comedies, only a scanty handful have
+been tolerably translated in English. As accessible and agreeable an
+introduction as any, perhaps, is the version of four notable plays by
+Miss Helen Zimmern in the series 'Masterpieces of Foreign Authors.' The
+'Memoirs' have been fairly rendered by John Black, and this version,
+considerably abridged, was served up by Mr. Howells in 1877 among his
+series of 'Choice Autobiographies.' Mr. Howells's introductory essay
+appeared also in the Atlantic Monthly. It has been drawn upon somewhat
+in the present sketch.
+
+                                [Signature: William Cranston Lawton]
+
+
+
+FIRST LOVE AND PARTING
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+I was intrusted some time afterwards with another commission, of a much
+more agreeable and amusing nature. This was to carry through an
+investigation, ten leagues from the town, into the circumstances of a
+dispute where firearms had been made use of and dangerous wounds
+received. As the country where this happened was flat, and the road lay
+through charming estates and country-houses, I engaged several of my
+friends to follow me; we were in all twelve, six males and six females,
+and four domestics. We all rode on horseback, and we employed twelve
+days in this delicious expedition....
+
+In this party there were two sisters, one married and the other single.
+The latter was very much to my liking, and I may say I made the party
+for her alone. She was as prudent and modest as her sister was
+headstrong and foolish; the singularity of our journey afforded us an
+opportunity of coming to an explanation, and we became lovers.
+
+My investigation was concluded in two hours; we selected another road
+for our return, to vary our pleasure.... The six gentlemen of our party
+proposed another species of entertainment. In the palace of the governor
+there was a theatre, which they wished to put to some use; and they did
+me the honor to tell me that they had conceived the project on my
+account, and they left me the power of choosing the pieces and
+distributing the characters. I thanked them, and accepted the
+proposition; and with the approbation of his Excellency and my
+chancellor, I put myself at the head of this new entertainment. I could
+have wished something comic, but I was not fond of buffoonery, and there
+were no good comedies; I therefore gave the preference to tragedy. As
+the operas of Metastasio were then represented everywhere, even without
+music, I put the airs into recitative; I endeavored as well as I could
+to approximate the style of that charming author; and I made choice of
+'Didone' and 'Siroe' for our representation. I distributed the parts
+according to the characters of my actors, whom I knew, and I reserved
+the worst for myself. In this I acted wisely, for I was completely
+unsuited for tragedy. Fortunately, I had composed two small pieces in
+which I played two parts of character, and redeemed my reputation.
+The first of these pieces was 'The Good Father,' and the second 'La
+Cantatrice.' Both were approved of, and my acting was considered
+passable for an amateur. I saw the last of these pieces some time
+afterwards at Venice, where a young advocate thought proper to give it
+out as his own work, and to receive compliments on the subject; but
+having been imprudent enough to publish it with his name, he experienced
+the mortification of seeing his plagiarism unmasked.
+
+I did what I could to engage my beautiful Angelica to accept a part in
+our tragedies, but it was impossible; she was timid, and had she even
+been willing, her parents would not have given their permission. She
+visited us; but this pleasure cost her tears, for she was jealous, and
+suffered much from seeing me on such a familiar footing with my fair
+companions. The poor little girl loved me with tenderness and sincerity,
+and I loved her also with my whole soul; I may say she was the first
+person whom I ever loved. She aspired to become my wife, which she would
+have been if certain singular reflections, that however were well
+founded, had not turned me from the design. Her elder sister had been
+remarkably beautiful, and after her first child she became ugly. The
+youngest had the same skin and the same features; she was one of those
+delicate beauties whom the air injures, and whom the smallest fatigue or
+pain discomposes: of all of which I saw a convincing proof. The fatigue
+of our journey produced a visible change upon her: I was young, and if
+my wife were in a short time to have lost her bloom, I foresaw what
+would have been my despair. This was reasoning curiously for a lover;
+but whether from virtue, weakness, or inconstancy, I quitted Feltre
+without marrying her.
+
+
+
+THE ORIGIN OF "MASKS" IN THE ITALIAN COMEDY
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+The amateurs of the old comedy, on seeing the rapid progress of the new,
+declared everywhere that it was unworthy of an Italian to give a blow to
+a species of comedy in which Italy had attained great distinction, and
+which no other nation had ever yet been able to imitate. But what made
+the greatest impression on the discontented was the suppression of
+masks, which my system appeared to threaten. It was said that these
+personages had for two centuries been the amusement of Italy, and that
+it ought not to be deprived of a species of comic diversion which it had
+created and so well supported.
+
+Before venturing to give any opinion on this subject, I imagine the
+reader will have no objection to listen for a few minutes to a short
+account of the origin, employment, and effects of these four masks.
+Comedy, which in all ages has been the favorite entertainment of
+polished nations, shared the fate of the arts and sciences, and was
+buried under the ruins of the Empire during the decay of letters. The
+germ of comedy, however, was never altogether extinguished in the
+fertile bosom of Italy. Those who first endeavored to bring about its
+revival, not finding in an ignorant age writers of sufficient skill, had
+the boldness to draw out plans, to distribute them into acts and scenes,
+and to utter extempore the subjects, thoughts, and witticisms which they
+had concerted among themselves. Those who could read (and neither the
+great nor the rich were of the number) found that in the comedies of
+Plautus and Terence there were always duped fathers, debauched sons,
+enamored girls, knavish servants, and mercenary maids; and, running over
+the different districts of Italy, they took the fathers from Venice and
+Bologna, the servants from Bergamo, and the lovers and waiting-maids
+from the dominions of Rome and Tuscany. Written proofs are not to be
+expected of what took place in a time when writing was not in use; but I
+prove my assertion in this way: Pantaloon has always been a Venetian,
+the Doctor a Bolognese, and Brighella and Harlequin Bergamasks; and from
+these places, therefore, the comic personages called the four masks of
+the Italian comedy were taken by the players. What I say on this subject
+is not altogether the creature of my imagination; I possess a manuscript
+of the fifteenth century, in very good preservation and bound in
+parchment, containing a hundred and twenty subjects or sketches of
+Italian pieces, called comedies of art, and of which the basis of the
+comic humor is always Pantaloon, a Venetian merchant; the Doctor, a
+Bolognese jurisconsult; and Brighella and Harlequin, Bergamask
+valets,--the first clever and sprightly, and the other a mere dolt.
+Their antiquity and their long existence indicate their origin.
+
+With respect to their employment, Pantaloon and the Doctor, called by
+the Italians the two old men, represent the part of fathers, and the
+other parts where cloaks are worn. The first is a merchant, because
+Venice in its ancient times was the richest and most extensively
+commercial country of Italy. He has always preserved the ancient
+Venetian costume; the black dress and the woolen bonnet are still worn
+in Venice; and the red under-waistcoat and breeches, cut out like
+drawers, with red stockings and slippers, are a most exact
+representation of the equipment of the first inhabitants of the Adriatic
+marshes. The beard, which was considered as an ornament in those remote
+ages, has been caricatured and rendered ridiculous in subsequent
+periods.
+
+The second old man, called the Doctor, was taken from among the lawyers,
+for the sake of opposing a learned man to a merchant; and Bologna was
+selected because in that city there existed a university, which,
+notwithstanding the ignorance of the times, still preserved the offices
+and emoluments of the professors. In the dress of the Doctor we observe
+the ancient costume of the university and bar of Bologna, which is
+nearly the same at this day; and the idea of the singular mask which
+covers his face and nose was taken from a wine stain which disfigured
+the countenance of a jurisconsult in those times. This is a tradition
+still existing among the amateurs of the comedy of art.
+
+Brighella and Harlequin, called in Italy the two Zani, were taken from
+Bergamo; because, the former being a very sharp fellow and the other a
+stupid clown, these two extremes are only to be found among the lower
+orders of that part of the country. Brighella represents an intriguing,
+deceitful, and knavish valet. His dress is a species of livery; his
+swarthy mask is a caricature of the color of the inhabitants of those
+high mountains, tanned by the heat of the sun. Some comedians, in this
+character, have taken the name of Fenocchio, Fiqueto, and Scapin; but
+they have always represented the same valet and the same Bergamask. The
+harlequins have also assumed other names: they have been sometimes
+Tracagnins, Truffaldins, Gradelins, and Mezetins; but they have always
+been stupid Bergamasks. Their dress is an exact representation of that
+of a poor devil who has picked up pieces of stuffs of different colors
+to patch his dress; his hat corresponds with his mendicity, and the
+hare's tail with which it is ornamented is still common in the dress of
+the peasantry of Bergamo.
+
+I have thus, I trust, sufficiently demonstrated the origin and
+employment of the four masks of the Italian comedy; it now remains for
+me to mention the effects resulting from them. The mask must always be
+very prejudicial to the action of the performer, either in joy or
+sorrow: whether he be in love, cross, or good-humored, the same features
+are always exhibited; and however he may gesticulate and vary the tone,
+he can never convey by the countenance, which is the interpreter of the
+heart, the different passions with which he is inwardly agitated. The
+masks of the Greeks and Romans were a sort of speaking-trumpets,
+invented for the purpose of conveying the sound through the vast extent
+of their amphitheatres. Passion and sentiment were not in those times
+carried to the pitch of delicacy now actually necessary. The actor must
+in our days possess a soul; and the soul under a mask is like a fire
+under ashes. These were the reasons which induced me to endeavor the
+reform of the Italian theatre; and to supply the place of farces with
+comedies. But the complaints became louder and louder: I was disgusted
+with the two parties, and I endeavored to satisfy both; I undertook to
+produce a few pieces merely sketched, without ceasing to give comedies
+of character. I employed the masks in the former, and I displayed a more
+noble and interesting comic humor in the others: each participated in
+the species of pleasure with which they were most delighted; with time
+and patience I brought about a reconciliation between them; and I had
+the satisfaction at length to see myself authorized in following my own
+taste, which became in a few years the most general and prevailing in
+Italy. I willingly pardoned the partisans of the comedians with masks
+the injuries they laid to my charge; for they were very able amateurs,
+who had the merit of giving themselves an interest to sketched
+comedies.
+
+
+
+PURISTS AND PEDANTRY
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+My journey to Parma, and the pension and diploma conferred on me,
+excited the envy and rage of my adversaries. They had reported at Venice
+during my absence that I was dead; and there was a monk who had even the
+temerity to say he had been at my funeral. On arriving home safe and
+sound, the evil-disposed began to display their irritation at my good
+fortune. It was not the authors, my antagonists, who tormented me, but
+the partisans of the different theatres of Venice.
+
+I was defended by literary men, who entertained a favorable opinion of
+me; and this gave rise to a warfare in which I was very innocently the
+victim of the irritation which had been excited. My system has always
+been never to mention the names of my adversaries: but I cannot avoid
+expressing the honor which I feel in proclaiming those of my advocates.
+Father Roberti, a Jesuit, at present the Abbé Roberti, one of the most
+illustrious poets of the suppressed society, published a poem in blank
+verse, entitled 'Comedy'; and by dwelling on the reformation effected by
+me, and analyzing several scenes in my pieces, he encouraged his
+countrymen and mine to follow the example and the system of the Venetian
+author. Count Verri, a Milanese, followed the Abbé Roberti.... Other
+patricians of Venice wrote in my favor, on account of the disputes which
+were every day growing warmer and warmer.... Every day witnessed some
+new composition for or against me; but I had this advantage,--that those
+who interested themselves for me, from their manners, their talents, and
+their reputation, were among the most prudent and distinguished men in
+Italy.
+
+One of the articles for which I was most keenly attacked was a violation
+of the purity of the language. I was a Venetian, and I had had the
+disadvantage of sucking in with my mother's milk the use of a very
+agreeable and seductive patois, which however was not Tuscan. I learned
+by principle, and cultivated by reading, the language of the good
+Italian authors; but first impressions will return at times,
+notwithstanding every attention used in avoiding them. I had undertaken
+a journey into Tuscany, where I remained for four years, with the view
+of becoming familiar with the language; and I printed the first edition
+of my works at Florence, under the eyes and the criticism of the
+learned of that place, that I might purify them from errors of language.
+All my precautions were insufficient to satisfy the rigorists: I always
+failed in one thing or other; and I was perpetually reproached with the
+original sin of Venetianism.
+
+Amidst all this tedious trifling, I recollected one day that Tasso had
+been worried his whole lifetime by the Academicians della Crusca, who
+maintained that his 'Jerusalem Delivered' had not passed through the
+sieve which is the emblem of their society. I was then in my closet, and
+I turned my eyes towards the twelve quarto volumes of the works of that
+author, and exclaimed, "Oh heavens! must no one write in the Italian
+language who has not been born in Tuscany?" I turned up mechanically the
+five volumes of the Dictionary della Crusca, where I found more than six
+hundred words, and a number of expressions, approved of by the academy
+and rejected by the world; I ran over several ancient authors considered
+as classical, whom it would be impossible to imitate in the present day
+without censure; and I came to this conclusion--that we must write in
+good Italian, but write at the same time so as to be understood in every
+corner of Italy. Tasso was therefore wrong in reforming his poem to
+please the Academicians della Crusca: his 'Jerusalem Delivered' is read
+by everybody, while nobody thinks of reading his 'Jerusalem Conquered.'
+
+
+
+A POET'S OLD AGE
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+I return to my regimen,--you will say here also, perhaps, that I ought
+to omit it: you are in the right; but all this is in my head, and I must
+be delivered of it by degrees; I cannot spare you a single comma. After
+dinner I am not fond of either working or walking. Sometimes I go to the
+theatre, but I am most generally in parties till nine o'clock in the
+evening. I always return before ten o'clock. I take two or three small
+cakes with a glass of wine and water, and this is the whole of my
+supper. I converse with my wife till midnight; I very soon fall asleep,
+and pass the night tranquilly.
+
+It sometimes happens to me, as well as every other person, to have my
+head occupied with something capable of retarding my sleep. In this
+case I have a certain remedy to lull myself asleep, and it is this: I
+had long projected a vocabulary of the Venetian dialect, and I had even
+communicated my intention to the public, who are still in expectation of
+it. While laboring at this tedious and disgusting work, I soon
+discovered that it threw me asleep. I laid it therefore aside, and I
+profited by its narcotic faculty. Whenever I feel my mind agitated by
+any moral cause, I take at random some word of my national language and
+translate it into Tuscan and French. In the same manner I pass in review
+all the words which follow in the alphabetical order, and I am sure to
+fall asleep at the third or fourth version. My recipe has never once
+failed me. It is not difficult to demonstrate the cause and effect of
+this phenomenon. A painful idea requires to be replaced by an opposite
+or indifferent idea; and the agitation of the mind once calmed, the
+senses become tranquil and are deadened by sleep.
+
+But this remedy, however excellent, might not be useful to every one. A
+man of too keen and feeling a disposition would not succeed. The
+temperament must be such as that with which nature has favored me. My
+moral qualities bear a resemblance to my physical: I dread neither cold
+nor heat, and I neither allow myself to be inflamed by rage nor
+intoxicated by joy....
+
+I am now arrived at the year 1787, which is the eightieth of my age, and
+that to which I have limited the course of my Memoirs. I have completed
+my eightieth year; my work is also finished. All is over, and I proceed
+to send my volumes to the press. This last chapter does not therefore
+touch on the events of the current year; but I have still some duties to
+discharge. I must begin with returning thanks to those persons who have
+reposed so much confidence in me as to honor me with their
+subscriptions.
+
+I do not speak of the kindness and favors of the King and court; this is
+not the place to mention them. I have named in my work some of my
+friends and even some of my protectors. I beg pardon of them: if I have
+done so without their permission, it is not through vanity; the occasion
+has suggested it; their names have dropped from my pen, the heart has
+seized on the instant, and the hand has not been unwilling. For example,
+the following is one of the fortunate occasions I allude to. I was
+unwell a few days ago; the Count Alfieri did me the honor to call on me;
+I knew his talents, but his conversation impressed on me the wrong
+which I should have done in omitting him. He is a very intelligent and
+learned literary man, who principally excels in the art of Sophocles and
+Euripides, and after these great models he has framed his tragedies.
+They have gone through two editions in Italy, and are at present in the
+press of Didot at Paris. I shall enter into no details respecting them,
+as they may be seen and judged of by every one.
+
+During my convalescence M. Caccia, a banker in Paris, my friend and
+countryman, sent me a book addressed to him from Italy for me. It was a
+collection of French epigrams and madrigals, translated into Italian by
+the Count Roncali, of the city of Brescia in the Venetian dominions.
+This charming poet has merely translated the thoughts; he has said the
+same things in fewer words, and he has fallen upon as brilliant and
+striking points in his own language as those of his originals.
+
+I had the honor of seeing M. Roncali twelve years ago at Paris, and he
+allows me to hope that I shall have the good fortune to see him again.
+This is infinitely flattering to me; but I earnestly entreat him to make
+haste, as my career is far advanced, and what is still worse, I am
+extremely fatigued. I have undertaken too long and too laborious a work
+for my age, and I have employed three years on it, always dreading lest
+I should not have the pleasure of seeing it finished. However, I am
+still in life, thanks to God, and I flatter myself that I shall see my
+volumes printed, distributed, and read. If they be not praised, I hope
+at least they will not be despised. I shall not be accused of vanity or
+presumption in daring to hope for some share of favor for my Memoirs;
+for had I thought that I should absolutely displease, I would not have
+taken so much pains; and if in the good and ill which I say of myself,
+the balance inclines to the favorable side, I owe more to nature than to
+study. All the application employed by me in the construction of my
+pieces has been that of not disfiguring nature, and all the care taken
+by me in my Memoirs has been that of telling only the truth. The
+criticism of my pieces may have the correction and improvement of comedy
+in view; but the criticism of my Memoirs will be of no advantage to
+literature. However, if any writer should think proper to employ his
+time on me for the sole purpose of vexing me, he would lose his labor.
+I am of a pacific disposition; I have always preserved my coolness of
+character; at my age I read little, and I read only amusing books.
+
+
+
+THE CAFÉ
+
+    [A few of the opening scenes from one of the popular Venetian
+    comedies are here given with occasional abridgment. They
+    illustrate the entirely practical theatrical skill of Goldoni's
+    plots, his rapid development of his characters, and the sound
+    morality which prevails without being aggressively prominent.
+
+    The permanent scene represents a small open square in Venice, or
+    a rather wide street, with three shops. The middle one is in use
+    as a café. To the right is a barber's. The one on the left is a
+    gambling-house. Beyond the barber's, across a street, is seen
+    the dancers' house, and beyond the gamblers' a hotel with
+    practicable doors and windows.]
+
+
+    Ridolfo, _master of the café_, Trappolo, _a waiter, and other
+    waiters_
+
+_Ridolfo_--Come, children, look alive, be wide awake, ready to serve the
+guests civilly and properly.
+
+_Trappolo_--Master dear, to tell you the truth, this early rising
+doesn't suit my complexion a bit. There's no one in sight. We could have
+slept another hour yet.
+
+_Ridolfo_--They'll be coming presently. Besides, 'tis not so very early.
+Don't you see? The barber is open, he's in his shop working on hair. And
+look! the playing-house is open too.
+
+_Trappolo_--Oh, yes, indeed. The gambling-house has been open a good
+bit. They've made a night of it.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Good. Master Pandolfo will have had a good profit.
+
+_Trappolo_--That dog always has good profit. He wins on the cards, he
+profits by usury, he shares with the sharpers. He is sure of all the
+money of whoever enters there. That poor Signor Eugenio--he has taken a
+header!
+
+_Ridolfo_--Just look at him, how little sense he has! With a wife, a
+young woman of grace and sense,--but he runs after every petticoat; and
+then he plays like a madman. But come, go roast the coffee and make a
+fresh supply.
+
+_Trappolo_--Shan't I warm over yesterday's supply?
+
+_Ridolfo_--No, make it good.
+
+_Trappolo_--Master has a short memory. How long since this shop opened?
+
+_Ridolfo_--You know very well. 'Tis about eight months.
+
+_Trappolo_--Then 'tis time for a change.
+
+_Ridolfo_--What do you mean by that?
+
+_Trappolo_--When a new shop opens, they make perfect coffee. After six
+months,--hot water, thin broth. [_Exit._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--He's a wit. I'm in hopes he'll help the shop. To a shop where
+there's a fun-maker every one goes.
+
+    Pandolfo, _keeper of the gambling-house, comes in, rubbing his
+    eyes sleepily_
+
+_Ridolfo_--Master Pandolfo, will you have coffee?
+
+_Pandolfo_--Yes, if you please.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Boys, serve coffee for Master Pandolfo. Be seated. Make
+yourself comfortable.
+
+_Pandolfo_--No, no, I must drink it at once and get back to work.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Are they playing yet in the shop?
+
+_Pandolfo_--They are busy at two tables.
+
+_Ridolfo_--So early?
+
+_Pandolfo_--They are at it since yesterday.
+
+_Ridolfo_--What game?
+
+_Pandolfo_--An innocent game: "first and second" [_i.e._, faro].
+
+_Ridolfo_--And how does it go?
+
+_Pandolfo_--For me it goes well.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Have you amused yourself playing too?
+
+_Pandolfo_--Yes, I took a little hand also.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Excuse me, my friend; I've no business to meddle in your
+affairs, but--it doesn't look well when the master of the shop plays;
+because if he loses he's laughed at, and if he wins he's suspected.
+
+_Pandolfo_--I am content if they haven't the laugh on me. As for the
+rest, let them suspect as they please; I pay no attention.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Dear friend, we are neighbors; I shouldn't want you to get
+into trouble. You know, by your play before you have brought up in the
+court.
+
+_Pandolfo_--I'm easily satisfied. I won a pair of sequins, and wanted no
+more.
+
+_Ridolfo_--That's right. Pluck the quail without making it cry out. From
+whom did you win them?
+
+_Pandolfo_--A jeweler's boy.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Bad. Very bad. That tempts the boys to rob their masters.
+
+_Pandolfo_--Oh, don't moralize to me. Let the greenhorns stay at home. I
+keep open for any one who wants to play.
+
+_Ridolfo_--And has Signor Eugenio been playing this past night?
+
+_Pandolfo_--He's playing yet. He hasn't dined, he hasn't slept, and he's
+lost all his money.
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--Poor young man! [_Aloud._] And how much has he
+lost?
+
+_Pandolfo_--A hundred sequins in cash: and now he is playing on credit.
+
+_Ridolfo_--With whom is he playing?
+
+_Pandolfo_--With the count.
+
+_Ridolfo_--And whom else?
+
+_Pandolfo_--With him alone.
+
+_Ridolfo_--It seems to me an honest man shouldn't stand by and see
+people assassinated.
+
+_Pandolfo_--Oho, my friend, if you're going to be so thin-skinned you'll
+make little money.
+
+_Ridolfo_--I don't care for that. Till now I have been in service, and
+did my duty honestly. I saved a few pennies, and with the help of my old
+master, who was Signor Eugenio's father, you know, I have opened this
+shop. With it I mean to live honorably and not disgrace my profession.
+
+     [_People from the gambling-shop call "Cards!"_]
+
+_Pandolfo_ [_answering_]--At your service.
+
+_Ridolfo_--For mercy's sake, get poor Signor Eugenio away from the
+table.
+
+_Pandolfo_--For all me, he may lose his shirt: I don't care. [_Starts
+out._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--And the coffee--shall I charge it?
+
+_Pandolfo_--Not at all: we'll deal a card for it.
+
+_Ridolfo_--I'm no greenhorn, my friend.
+
+_Pandolfo_--Oh well, what does it matter? You know my visitors make
+trade for you. I am surprised that you trouble yourself about these
+little matters. [_Exit._] ...
+
+     _A gentleman,_ Don Marzio, _enters_
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--Here is the man who never stops talking, and always
+must have it his own way.
+
+_Marzio_--Coffee.
+
+_Ridolfo_--At once, sir.
+
+_Marzio_--What's the news, Ridolfo?
+
+_Ridolfo_--I couldn't say, sir.
+
+_Marzio_--Has no one appeared here at your café yet?
+
+_Ridolfo_--'Tis quite early still.
+
+_Marzio_--Early? It has struck nine already.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Oh no, honored sir, 'tis not seven yet.
+
+_Marzio_--Get away with your nonsense.
+
+_Ridolfo_--I assure you, it hasn't struck seven yet.
+
+_Marzio_--Get out, stupid.
+
+_Ridolfo_--You abuse me without reason, sir.
+
+_Marzio_--I counted the strokes just now, and I tell you it is nine.
+Besides, look at my watch: it never goes wrong. [_Shows it._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--Very well, then; if your watch is never wrong,--it says a
+quarter to seven.
+
+_Marzio_--What? That can't be. [_Takes out his eye-glass and looks._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--What do you say?
+
+_Marzio_--My watch is wrong. It is nine o'olock. I heard it.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Where did you buy that watch?
+
+_Marzio_--I ordered it from London.
+
+_Ridolfo_--They cheated you.
+
+_Marzio_--Cheated me? How so? It is the very first quality.
+
+_Ridolfo_--If it were a good one, it wouldn't be two hours wrong.
+
+_Marzio_--It is always exactly right.
+
+_Ridolfo_--But the watch says a quarter to seven, and you say it is
+nine.
+
+_Marzio_--My watch is right.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Then it really is a little before seven, as I said.
+
+_Marzio_---You're an insolent fellow. My watch is right: you talk
+foolishly, and I've half a mind to box your ears. [_His coffee is
+brought._]
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--Oh, what a beast!
+
+_Marzio_--Have you seen Signor Eugenio?
+
+_Ridolfo_--No, honored sir.
+
+_Marzio_--At home, of course, petting his wife. What an uxorious fellow!
+Always a wife! Always a wife! [_Drinks his coffee._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--Anything but his wife. He's been gambling all night at
+Pandolfo's.
+
+_Marzio_--Just as I tell you. Always gambling.
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--"Always gambling," "Always his wife," "Always" the
+Devil; I hope he'll catch him!
+
+_Marzio_--He came to me the other day in all secrecy, to beg me to lend
+him ten sequins on a pair of earrings of his wife's.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Well, you know, every man is liable to have these little
+difficulties; but they don't care to have them known, and that is
+doubtless why he came to you, certain that you would tell no one.
+
+_Marzio_--Oh, I say nothing. I help all, and take no credit for it. See!
+Here are his wife's earrings. I lent him ten sequins on them. Do you
+think I am secured?
+
+_Ridolfo_--I'm no judge, but I think so.
+
+_Marzio_--Halloa, Trappolo. [_Trappolo enters._] Here; go to the
+jeweler's yonder, show him these earrings of Signor Eugenio's wife, and
+ask him for me if they are security for ten sequins that I lent him.
+
+_Trappolo_--And it doesn't harm Signor Eugenio to make his affairs
+public?
+
+_Marzio_--I am a person with whom a secret is safe. [_Exit Trappolo._]
+Say, Ridolfo, what do you know of that dancer over there?
+
+_Ridolfo_--I really know nothing about her.
+
+_Marzio_--I've been told the Count Leandro is her protector.
+
+_Ridolfo_--To be frank, I don't care much for other people's affairs.
+
+_Marzio_--But 'tis well to know things, to govern one's self
+accordingly. She has been under his protection for some time now, and
+the dancer's earnings have paid the price of the protection. Instead of
+spending anything, he devours all the poor wretch has. Indeed, he forces
+her to do what she should not. Oh, what a villain!
+
+_Ridolfo_--But I am here all day, and I can swear that no one goes to
+her house except Leandro.
+
+_Marzio_--It has a back door. Fool! Fool! Always the back door. Fool!
+
+_Ridolfo_--I attend to my shop: if she has a back door, what is it to
+me? I put my nose into no one's affairs.
+
+_Marzio_--Beast! Do you speak like that to a gentleman of my station?
+
+     [This character of Don Marzio the slanderer is the most
+     effective one in the comedy. He finally brings upon himself
+     the bitterest ill-will of all the other characters, and feels
+     himself driven out of Venice, "a land in which all men live
+     at ease, all enjoy liberty, peace, and amusement, if only
+     they know how to be prudent, discreet, honorable."]
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by William C. Lawton
+
+
+
+
+MEÏR AARON GOLDSCHMIDT
+
+(1819-1887)
+
+[Illustration: GOLDSCHMIDT]
+
+
+In the first line of his memoirs Goldschmidt states that he was of "the
+tribe of Levi," a fact of which he was never unconscious, and which has
+given him his peculiar position in modern Danish literature as the
+exponent of the family and social life of the orthodox Jew. Brandes
+writes of Goldschmidt that: "In spite of his cosmopolitan spirit, he has
+always loved two nationalities above all others and equally well,--the
+Jewish and the Danish. He has looked upon himself as a sort of
+noble-born bastard; and with the bat of the fable he has said
+alternately to the mice, 'I am a mouse' and to the birds, 'I have
+wings.' He has endeavored to give his answer to the questions of the
+Jew's place in modern culture."
+
+Goldschmidt was born on the 26th of October, 1819. His early childhood
+was spent partly in the country, in the full freedom of country life,
+and partly in the city, where he was sent to school in preparation for
+the professional career his father had planned for him, in preference to
+a business life like his own. Goldschmidt took part in the religious
+instruction of the school, at the same time observing the customs of the
+Jewish ritual at home without a full understanding of its
+meaning,--somewhat as he was taught to read Hebrew without being able to
+translate a word of it into Danish. In the senior class his religious
+instructor let him join in the Bible reading, but refused to admit him
+to the catechism class; as a consequence he failed to answer a few
+questions on his examination papers, and fell just short of a maximum.
+This made him feel that he was ostracized by his Jewish birth, and put
+an end to his desire for further academic studies.
+
+At the age of eighteen he began his journalistic career as editor of a
+provincial paper, the care of which cost him a lawsuit and subjected him
+to a year's censorship. Soon after, he sold the paper for two hundred
+dollars, and with this money he started the Copenhagen weekly The
+Corsair, which in no time gained a large reading public, and whose
+Friday appearance was awaited with weekly increasing interest. The
+editorials were given up to aesthetic and poetic discussions, and the
+small matter treated the questions of the day with a pointed wit that
+soon made The Corsair as widely feared as it was eagerly read. He had
+reached only the third number when it was put under censorship, and
+lawsuits followed in quick succession. Goldschmidt did not officially
+assume the responsibility of editor, although it was an open secret that
+he was author of most of the articles; publicly the blows were warded
+off by pretended owners whose names were often changed. One of the few
+men whom The Corsair left unattacked was Sören Kierkegaard, for whose
+literary and scholarly talents Goldschmidt had great respect. That The
+Corsair was under the ban of the law, so to speak, and had brought him
+even a four-days' imprisonment, was a small matter to Goldschmidt; but
+when Kierkegaard passed a scathing moral judgment on the paper,
+Goldschmidt sold out for four thousand dollars and started with this sum
+on his travels, "to get rid of wit and learn something better."
+
+In 1847 he was again back in Copenhagen, and began life anew as editor
+of North and South, a weekly containing excellent aesthetic and critical
+studies, but mainly important on account of its social and political
+influence. Already, in the time of The Corsair, Goldschmidt had begun
+his work as novelist with 'A Jew,' written in 1843-45, and had taken
+possession of the field which became his own. It was a promising book,
+that met with immediate appreciation. Even Kierkegaard forgot for a
+moment the editor of The Corsair in his praise. The Jews, however,
+looked upon the descriptions of intimate Jewish family life somewhat as
+a desecration of the Holy of Holies; and if broad-minded enough to
+forgive this, thought it unwise to accentuate the Jew's position as an
+element apart in social life. It argues a certain narrowness in
+Goldschmidt that he has never been able to refrain from striking this
+note, and Brandes blames him for the bad taste of "continually serving
+his grandmother with sharp sauce."
+
+Goldschmidt wrote another long novel, 'Homeless'; but it is principally
+in his shorter works, such as 'Love Stories from Many Countries'
+'Maser,' and 'Avromche Nightingale,' that he has left a great and good
+gift to Danish literature. The shorter his composition, the more perfect
+was his treatment. He was above all a stylist.
+
+He always had a tendency to mysticism, and in his last years he was
+greatly taken up with his theory of Nemesis, on which he wrote a book,
+containing much that is suggestive but also much that is obviously the
+result of the wish to make everything conform to a pet theory. His
+lasting importance will be as the first and foremost influence on modern
+Danish prose.
+
+
+
+ASSAR AND MIRJAM
+
+From 'Love Stories from Many Countries'
+
+
+Assar, son of Juda, a valiant and jealous youth, came walking toward
+Modin, when from one of the hills he saw a great sight on the plain.
+Here warriors rode a chariot race in a great circle; many people stood
+about, calling loudly to the drivers and the spirited horses. Yonder
+were horsemen in golden armor, trying to catch rings on their spears;
+and drums were beaten in honor of the winner. On the outskirts of the
+plain was a little grove of olive-trees; it was not dense. In the grove
+stood a nude woman hewn in marble; her hair was of gold and her eyes
+were black, and young girls danced around her with garlands of flowers.
+
+Then Assar said:--"Woe unto us! These are Jewish maidens dancing around
+the idol, and these are Greek men carrying arms on our holy ground and
+playing at games as if they were in their home! and no Jewish man makes
+the game dangerous for them!"
+
+He went down the hill and came to a thicket reaching down to a little
+brook. On the other side of the brook stood a Greek centurion, a young
+man, and he was talking to a girl, who stood on this side of the brook
+on the edge of the thicket.
+
+The warrior said:--"Thou sayest that thy God forbids thee to go over
+into the grove. What a dark and unfriendly God they have given thee,
+beautiful child of Juda! He hates thy youth, and the joy of life, and
+the roses which ought to crown thy black hair. My gods are of a
+friendlier mind toward mortals. Every morning Apollo drives his glorious
+span over the arch of the heavens and lights warriors to their deeds;
+Selene's milder torch glows at night for lovers, and to those who have
+worshiped her in this life beautiful Aphrodite gives eternal life on her
+blessed isle. It is her statue standing in the grove. When thou givest
+thyself under her protection she gives thee in return a hero for thy
+faithful lover, and later on, graceful daughter of Juda, some god will
+set thee with thy radiant eyes among the stars, to be a light to mortals
+and a witness of the beauty of earthly love."
+
+The young girl might have answered; but at this moment Assar was near
+her, and she knew him, and he saw that it was Mirjam, Rabbi Mattathew's
+daughter,--the woman he loved, and who was his promised bride. She
+turned and followed him; but the warrior on the other side of the brook
+called out, "What right hast thou to lead this maiden away?"
+
+Assar replied, "I have no right."
+
+"Then why dost thou go with him, sweet daughter of Juda?" cried the
+warrior.
+
+Mirjam did not answer, but Assar said, "Because she has not yet given up
+serving her Master."
+
+"Who is her master?" asked the warrior. "I can buy thee freedom, my
+beautiful child!"
+
+Assar replied, "I wish thou may'st see him."[E]
+
+    [E] "Whoever sees God must die."
+
+The warrior, who could not cross the brook at this place, or anywhere
+near it, called as they went away, "Tell me thy master's name!"
+
+Assar turned and answered, "I will beg him come to thee."
+
+A hill hid them from the eyes of the warrior, and Mirjam said, "Assar!"
+
+Assar replied, "Mirjam! I have never loved thee as dearly as I do
+to-day--I do not know if it is a curse or a blessing which is in my
+veins. Thou hast listened to the words of the heathen."
+
+"I listened to them because he spoke kindly; but I have not betrayed the
+Lord nor thee."
+
+"Thou hast permitted his words to reach thy ear and thy soul."
+
+"What could I do, Assar? He spoke kindly."
+
+Assar stood still, and said to himself, "Yes, he spoke kindly. They do
+speak kindly. And they spoke kind words to the poor girls who danced
+around the idol in the grove. Had they spoken harsh and threatening
+words, they would not have danced."
+
+Again he stood still, and said to himself, "If they came using force,
+the rabbi would kill her and then himself, or she would throw herself
+from a rock of her own free will. But who can set a guard to watch over
+kind words?"
+
+The third time he stood still, and said, "O Israel, thou canst not bear
+kind words!"
+
+Mirjam thought that he suspected her; and she stood still and said, "I
+am a rabbi's daughter!"
+
+Assar replied, "O Mirjam, I am Assar, and I will be the son of my own
+actions."
+
+"For God's sake," exclaimed Mirjam, "do not seek that warrior, and do
+not enter into a quarrel with him! He will kill thee or have thee put
+into prison. There is misery enough in Israel! The strangers have
+entered our towns. Let us bend our heads and await the will of God, but
+not challenge! Assar, I should die if anything happened to thee!"
+
+"And what would I do if anything happened to thee! My head swims!
+Whither should I flee? Would thy father and thy brothers flee to the
+wilds of the mountains?"
+
+"They have spoken of that. But there is no place to flee to and not much
+to flee from; for although the heathen have taken gold and goods, yet
+they are kind this time."
+
+Assar replied, "Oh yes, they are kind; I had almost forgotten it.
+Mirjam, if I go away wilt thou believe, and go on believing, that I go
+on God's errand?"
+
+"Assar, a dark look from thee is dearer to me than the kindest from any
+heathen, and a word of thine is more to me than many witnesses. But do
+not leave me! Stay and protect me!"
+
+"I go to protect thee! I go to the heights and to the depths to call
+forth the God of Israel. Await his coming!" ...
+
+Assar went to the King, Antiochus Epiphanes, bent low before him, and
+said, "May the Master of the world guide thy steps!"
+
+The King looked at him well pleased, and asked his name; whereupon Assar
+answered that he was a man of the tribe of Juda.
+
+The King said, "Few of thy countrymen come to serve me!"
+
+Assar replied, "If thou wilt permit thy servant a bold word, King, the
+fault is thine."
+
+And when the King, astonished, asked how this might be, Assar answered,
+"Because thou art too kind, lord."
+
+The King turned to his adviser, and said laughingly, "When we took the
+treasures of the temple in Jerusalem, they found it hard enough."
+
+"O King," said Assar, "silver and gold and precious stones can be
+regained, and the Israelites know this; but thou lettest them keep that
+which cannot be regained when once it is lost."
+
+The King answered quickly, "What is that?" and Assar replied:--"The
+Israelites have a God, who is very powerful but also very jealous. He
+has always helped them in the time of need if they held near to him and
+did not worship strange gods; for this his jealousy will not bear. When
+they do this he forsakes them. But thou, O King, hast taken their
+silver and gold and jewels, but hast let them keep the God who gives it
+all back to them. They know this; and so they smile at thee, and await
+that thou shalt be thrown into the dust by him, and they will arise his
+avengers, and persecute thy men."
+
+The King paled; he remembered his loss in Egypt, and he feared that if
+the enemy pursued him he should find help in Israel; and he said, "What
+ought we to do?"
+
+Assar replied: "If thou wilt permit thy servant to utter his humble
+advice, thou shouldst use severity and forbid their praying to the God
+they call Jehovah, and order them to pray to thy gods."
+
+The King's adviser looked at Assar and asked, "Hast thou offered up
+sacrifice to our gods?"
+
+Assar replied, "I am ready."
+
+They led him to the altar, and on the way thither Assar said:--"Lord,
+all-powerful God! Thou who seest the heart and not alone the deeds of
+the hand, be my witness! It is written: 'And it shall happen in that
+same hour that I shall wipe out the name of idols out of the land, and
+they shall be remembered no more, and the unclean spirit shall I cause
+to depart from the country.' Do thou according to thy word, O Lord!
+Amen!"
+
+When the sacrifice was brought, Assar was dressed in festive robes on
+the word of the King, and a place was given him among the King's
+friends, and orders were sent out throughout the country, according to
+what he had said.
+
+And to Modin too came the King's messenger; and when the rabbi heard of
+it, he went with his five sons to the large prayer-house, and read
+maledictions over those who worshiped idols and blessings over those who
+were faithful to Jehovah. And those who were present noticed that the
+rabbi's eldest son, Judas Maccabæus, carried a sword under his mantle.
+
+And when they came out of the prayer-house they saw that a heathen altar
+had been built, and there was a Jew making his sacrifice; and when Rabbi
+Mattathew saw this, he hastened to the spot and seized the knife of
+sacrifice and thrust it into the Jew's breast. The centurion who stood
+by, and who was the same that had previously talked to Mirjam the
+rabbi's daughter at the brook, would kill the rabbi; but Judas Maccabæus
+drew his sword quickly, and struck the centurion in the throat and
+killed him. Then the King's men gathered; but the street was narrow,
+and Judas Maccabæus went last and shielded all, until the night came and
+they had got their women together and could flee to the mountains. And
+then began the fight of the men of Juda against the Macedonians, the
+Greeks, and the Assyrians, and they killed those of the King's men who
+pursued them into the mountains.
+
+Then King Antiochus the temple-robber said to Assar, "This is thy
+advice!" to which Assar replied: "No, King; this is the advice of thy
+warriors, since they allow the rebels to escape and do not treat them
+without mercy. For this know, O King, that so long as thou art merciful
+to this people there is no hope."
+
+Then there were issued strict orders to torture and kill all who refused
+to obey the King's command; and all those in Israel in whom Jehovah was
+still living rose to fight with Mattathew and his sons, and men and
+women, yea, children even, were moved to suffer death for the Lord and
+his law.
+
+But at this time it happened that King Antiochus the temple-destroyer
+was visited by his shameful disease, and he sent messengers with rich
+gifts to all oracles and temples to seek help; but they could find none.
+
+Then he said to Assar, "Thou saidst once that the God of Israel was a
+mighty God; could not _he_ cure me of my disease?"
+
+Assar replied: "I have indeed heard from my childhood that the God of
+Israel is a mighty God; but O King, thou wilt not give in to that hard
+people and make peace with their God?"
+
+The King answered, "I must live! How can he be pacified?"
+
+Assar said, "It is too heavy a sacrifice for so great a king as thee.
+Their wise men assert that God has given them the country for a
+possession, and it would be necessary for thee not only to allow them to
+worship their God, but also to call back thy men and make a covenant
+with them so that they should merely pay a tribute to thee. But this is
+more than I can advise."
+
+The King answered, "Much does a man give for his life. Dost thou believe
+that he is a great God?"
+
+"I have seen a great proof of it, lord."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"This: that even a greatness like thine was as nothing to his."
+
+"It is not a dishonor to be smaller than the Immortals. Go and prepare
+all, according to what we have spoken."
+
+Then Assar prepared all and had the King's men called back, and promised
+the inhabitants peace and led the King on his way to Jerusalem; and they
+passed by Modin.
+
+And the King's sufferings being very great, he had himself carried into
+the house of prayers, before the holy, and he prayed to the God of
+Israel. And the men of Juda stood around him; they stood high and he lay
+low, and they had saved their souls.
+
+But when the King was carried out, one of the Maccabæan warriors
+recognized Assar and cried out, "Thou hast offered up sacrifices to
+idols, and from thee have come the evil counsels which have cost
+precious blood! Thou shalt be wiped off the earth!"
+
+He drew his sword and aimed at him, but Mirjam, who had come up, threw
+herself between them with the cry, "He called forth Israel's God!" And
+the steel which was meant for him pierced her.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by Olga Flinch.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: O. GOLDSMITH.]
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH
+
+(1728-1774)
+
+BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY
+
+
+Oliver Goldsmith was born at Pallas, County Longford, Ireland, November
+10th, 1728. That was the year in which Pope issued his 'Dunciad,' Gay
+his 'Beggar's Opera,' and Thomson his 'Spring.' Goldsmith's father was a
+clergyman of the Established Church. In 1730 the family removed to
+Lissoy, a better living than that of Pallas. Oliver's school days in and
+around Westmeath were unsatisfactory; so also his course at Trinity,
+1744 to 1749. For the next two years he loafed at Ballymahon, living on
+his mother, then a widow, and making vain attempts to take orders, to
+teach, to enter a law course, to sail for America. He was a bad
+sixpence. Finally his uncle Contarine, who saw good stuff in the
+awkward, ugly, humorous, and reckless youth, got him off to Edinburgh,
+where he studied medicine till 1754.
+
+In 1754 he is studying, or pretending to study, at Leyden. In 1755 and
+1756 he is singing, fluting, and otherwise "beating" his way through
+Europe, whence he returns with a mythical M. B. degree. From 1756 to
+1759 he is in London, teaching, serving an apothecary, practicing
+medicine, reading proof, writing as a hack, planning to practice surgery
+in Coromandel, failing to qualify as a hospital mate, and in general
+only not starving. In 1759 Dr. Percy finds him in Green Arbor Court amid
+a colony of washerwomen, writing an 'Enquiry into the Present State of
+Polite Learning in Europe.' Next follows the appearance of that work,
+and his acquaintance with publishers and men of letters. In 1761, with
+Percy, comes Johnson to visit him. In 1764 Goldsmith is one of the
+members of the famous Literary Club, where he counts among his friends,
+besides Percy and Johnson, Reynolds, Boswell, Garrick, Burke, and others
+who shone with their own or reflected light. The rest of his life, spent
+principally in or near London, is associated with his literary career.
+He died April 4th, 1774, and was buried near the Temple Church.
+
+Goldsmith was an essayist and critic, a story-writer, a poet, a comic
+dramatist, and a literary drudge: the last all the time, the others
+"between whiles." His drudgery produced such works as the 'Memoirs of
+Voltaire,' the 'Life of Nash,' two Histories of England, Histories of
+Rome and Greece, Lives of Parnell and Bolingbroke. The 'History of
+Animated Nature' was undertaken as an industry, but it reads, as Johnson
+said, "like a Persian tale,"--and of course, the more Persian the less
+like nature. For the prose of Goldsmith writing for a suit of clothes or
+for immortality is all of a piece, inimitable. "Nothing," says he, in
+his 'Essay on Taste,' "has been so often explained, and yet so little
+understood, as simplicity in writing.... It is no other than beautiful
+nature, without affectation or extraneous ornament."
+
+This ingenuous elegance is the accent of Goldsmith's work in verse and
+prose. It is nature improved, not from without but by exquisite and
+esoteric art, the better to prove its innate virtue and display its
+artless charm. Such a style is based upon a delicate "sensibility to the
+graces of natural and moral beauty and decorum." Hence the ideographic
+power, the directness, the sympathy, the lambent humor that characterize
+the 'Essays,' the 'Vicar,' the 'Deserted Village,' and 'She Stoops to
+Conquer.' This is the "plain language of ancient faith and sincerity"
+that, pretending to no novelty, renovated the prose of the eighteenth
+century, knocked the stilts from under Addison and Steele, tipped half
+the Latinity out of Johnson, and readjusted his ballast. Goldsmith goes
+without sprawling or tiptoeing; he sails without rolling. He borrows the
+carelessness but not the ostentation of the Spectator; the dignity but
+not the ponderosity of 'Rasselas'; and produces the prose of natural
+ease, the sweetest English of the century. It in turn prefaced the way
+for Charles Lamb, Hunt, and Sydney Smith. "It were to be wished that we
+no longer found pleasure with the inflated style," writes Goldsmith in
+his 'Polite Learning.' "We should dispense with loaded epithet and
+dressing up trifles with dignity.... Let us, instead of writing finely,
+try to write naturally; not hunt after lofty expressions to deliver mean
+ideas, nor be forever gaping when we only mean to deliver a whisper."
+
+Just this naturalness constitutes the charm of the essay on 'The Bee'
+(1759), and of the essays collected in 1765. We do not read him for
+information: whether he knows more or less of his subject, whether he
+writes of Charles XII., or Dress, The Opera, Poetry, or Education, we
+read him for simplicity and humor. Still, his critical estimates, while
+they may not always square with ours, evince not only good sense and
+æsthetic principle, but a range of reading not at all ordinary. When he
+condemns Hamlet's great soliloquy we may smile, but in judicial respect
+for the father of our drama he yields to none of his contemporaries. The
+selections that he includes in his 'Beauties of English Poetry' would
+argue a conventional taste; but in his 'Essay on Poetry Distinguished
+from the Other Arts,' he not only defines poetry in terms that might
+content the Wordsworthians, he also to a certain extent anticipates
+Wordsworth's estimate of poetic figures.
+
+While he makes no violent breach with the classical school, he
+prophesies the critical doctrine of the nineteenth century. He calls for
+the "energetic language of simple nature, which is now grown into
+disrepute." "If the production does not keep nature in view, it will be
+destitute of truth and probability, without which the beauties of
+imitation cannot subsist." Still he by no means falls into the quagmire
+of realism. For, continues he, "if on the other hand the imitation is so
+close as to be mistaken for nature, the pleasure will then cease,
+because the [Greek: mimêsis] or imitation, no longer appears."
+
+Even when wrong, Goldsmith is generally half-way right; and this is
+especially true of the critical judgments contained in his first
+published book. The impudence of 'The Enquiry' (1759) is delicious. What
+this young Irishman, fluting it through Europe some five years before,
+had _not_ learned about the 'Condition of Polite Learning' in its
+principal countries, might fill a ponderous folio. What he did learn,
+eked out with harmless misstatement, flashes of inspiration, and a
+clever argument to prove that criticism has always been the foe of
+letters, managed to fill a respectable duodecimo, and brought him to the
+notice of publishers and scholars.
+
+The essay has catholicity, independence, and wit, and it carries itself
+with whimsical ease. Every sentence steps out sprightly. Of the French
+Encyclopédies: "Wits and dunces contribute their share, and Diderot as
+well as Desmaretz are candidates for oblivion. The genius of the first
+supplies the gale of favor, and the latter adds the useful ballast of
+stupidity." Of the Germans: "They write through volumes, while they do
+not think through a page.... Were angels to write books, they never
+would write folios." And again: "If criticism could have improved the
+taste of a people, the Germans would have been the most polite nation
+alive." That settles the Encyclopedias and the Germans. So each
+nationality is sententiously reviewed and dismissed with an epigram that
+even to-day sounds not altogether unjust, rather amusing and urbane than
+acrimonious.
+
+But it was not until Goldsmith began the series of letters in the Public
+Ledger (1760), that was afterwards published as 'The Citizen of the
+World' that he took London. These letters purport to be from a
+philosophic Chinaman in Europe to his friends at home. Grave, gay,
+serene, ironical, they were at once an amusing image and a genial censor
+of current manners and morals. They are no less creative than critical;
+equally classic for the characters they contain: the Gentleman in Black,
+Beau Tibbs and his wife, the pawnbroker's widow, Tim Syllabub, and the
+procession of minor personages, romantic or ridiculous, but
+unique,--equally classic for these characters and for the satire of the
+conception. These are Goldsmith's best sketches. Though the prose is not
+always precise, it seems to be clear, and is simple. The writer cares
+more for the judicious than the sublime; for the quaint, the comic, and
+the agreeable than the pathetic. He chuckles with sly laughter--genial,
+sympathetic; he looses his arrow phosphorescent with wit, but not
+barbed, dipped in something subacid,--straight for the heart. Not Irving
+alone, but Thackeray, stands in line of descent from the Goldsmith of
+the 'Citizen.'
+
+'The Traveller,' polished _ad unguem_, appeared in 1764, and placed
+Goldsmith in the first rank of poets then living; but of that later.
+There is good reason for believing that his masterpiece in prose, 'The
+Vicar of Wakefield,' had been written as early as 1762, although it was
+not published until 1766. It made Goldsmith's mark as a storyteller. One
+can readily imagine how, after the grim humor of Smollett, the broad and
+_risqué_ realism of Fielding, the loitering of Sterne, and the
+moralizing of Richardson, the public would seize with a sense of relief
+upon this unpretentious chronicle of a country clergyman's life: his
+peaceful home, its ruin, its restoration. Not because the narrative was
+quieter and simpler, shorter and more direct than other narratives, but
+because to its humor, realism, grace, and depth it added the charity of
+First Corinthians Thirteenth. England soon discovered that the borders
+of the humanities had been extended; that the Vicar and his "durable"
+wife, Moses, Olivia with the prenatal tendency to romance, Sophia, the
+graceless Jenkinson,--the habit and temper of the whole,--were a new
+province. The prose idyl, with all its beauty and charity, does not
+entitle Goldsmith to rank with the great novelists; but of its kind, in
+spite of faults of inaccuracy, improbability, and impossibility, it is
+first and best. Goethe read and re-read it with moral and æsthetic
+benefit; and the spirit of Goldsmith is not far to seek in 'Hermann and
+Dorothea.' 'The Vicar' is perhaps the most popular of English classics
+in foreign lands.
+
+In poetry, if Goldsmith did not write much, it was for lack of
+opportunity. What he did write is good, nearly all of it. The philosophy
+of 'The Traveller' (1764) and the political economy of 'The Deserted
+Village' (1770) may be dubious, but the poetry is true. There is in both
+a heartiness which discards the formalized emotion, prefers the touch of
+nature and the homely adjective. The characteristic is almost feminine
+in the description of Auburn: "_Dear_ lovely bowers"; it is inevitable,
+artless, in 'The Traveller': "His first, best country ever is at home."
+But on the other hand, the _curiosa felicitas_ marks every line, the
+nice selection of just the word or phrase richest in association,
+redolent of tradition, harmonious, classically proper, but still
+natural, true, and apt. "My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee"--not
+a word but is hearty; and for all that, the line is stamped with the
+academic authority of centuries: "Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans
+mare currunt." Both poems are characterized by the infrequency of
+epithet and figure,--the infrequency that marks sincerity and that
+heightens pleasure,--and by a cunning in the use of proper names,
+resonant, remote, suggestive: "On Idra's cliffs or Arno's shelvy
+side,"--the cunning of a musical poem. Both poems vibrate with
+personality, recall the experience of the writer. It would be hard to
+choose between them; but 'The Deserted Village' strikes the homelier
+chord, comes nearer, with its natural pathos, its sidelong smile, and
+its perennial novelty, to the heart of him who knows.
+
+Goldsmith is less eloquent but more natural than Dryden, less precise
+but more simple than Pope. In poetic sensibility he has the advantage of
+both. Were the volume of his verse not so slight, were his conceptions
+more sublime, and their embodiment more epic or dramatic, he might rank
+with the greatest of his century. As it is, in imaginative insight he
+has no superior in the eighteenth century; in observation, pathos,
+representative power, no equal: Dryden, Pope, Gray, Thomson,
+Young,--none but Collins approaches him. The reflective or descriptive
+poem can of course not compete with the drama, epic, or even lyric of
+corresponding merit in its respective kind. But Goldsmith's poems are
+the best of their kind, better than all but the best in other kinds. His
+conception of life is more generous and direct, hence truer and gentler,
+than that of the Augustan age. Raising no revolt against classical
+principles, he rejects the artifices of decadent classicism, returns to
+nature, and expresses _it_ simply. He is consequently in this respect
+the harbinger of Cowper, Crabbe, Bloomfield, Clare, Wordsworth, and
+Coleridge. In technique also he breaks away from Pope. His larger
+movement, his easier modulation, his richer tone, his rarer epithet and
+epigram, his metaphor "glowing from the heart," mark the defection from
+the poetry of cold conceit.
+
+For lack of space we can only refer to the romantic quality of his
+ballad 'Edwin and Angelina' (1765), the spontaneous humor of 'The Haunch
+of Venison,' and the exquisite satire of 'Retaliation' (1774).
+
+To appreciate the historical position of Goldsmith's comedies, one must
+regard them as a reaction against the school that had held the stage
+since the beginning of the century--a "genteel" and "sentimental"
+school, fearing to expose vice or ridicule absurdity. But Goldsmith felt
+that absurdity was the comic poet's game. Reverting therefore to
+Farquhar and the Comedy of Manners, he revived that species, at the same
+time infusing a strain of the "humors" of the tribe of Ben. Hence the
+approbation that welcomed his first comedy, and the applause that
+greeted the second. For 'The Good-natured Man' (1768) and 'She Stoops to
+Conquer' (1773) did by example what Hugh Kelly's 'Piety in Pattens'
+aimed to do by ridicule,--ousted the hybrid comedy (tradesman's tragedy,
+Voltaire called it) of which 'The Conscious Lovers' had been the most
+tolerable specimen, and 'The School for Lovers' the most decorous and
+dull.
+
+But "Goldy" had not only the gift of weighing the times, he had the gift
+of the popular dramatist. His _dramatis personæ_ are on the one hand
+nearly all legitimate descendants of the national comedy, though none is
+a copy from dramatic predecessors; on the other hand, they are in every
+instance "imitations" of real life, more than once of some aspect of his
+own life; but none is so close an imitation as to detract from the
+pleasure which fiction should afford. The former quality makes his
+characters look familiar; the latter, true. So he accomplishes the feat
+most difficult for the dramatist: while idealizing the individual in
+order to realize the type, he does not for a moment lose the sympathy of
+his audience.
+
+Even in his earlier comedy these two characteristics are manifest. In
+the world of drama, young Honeywood is the legitimate descendant of
+Massinger's Wellborn on the one side, and of Congreve's Valentine Legend
+on the other, with a more distant collateral resemblance to Ben Jonson's
+Younger Knowell. But in the field of experience this "Good-natured Man"
+is that aspect of "Goldy" himself which, when he was poorest, made him
+not so poor but that Irishmen poorer still could live on him; that
+aspect of the glorious "idiot in affairs" which could make to the Earl
+of Northumberland, willing to be kind, no other suggestion of his wants
+than that he had a _brother_ in Ireland, "poor, a clergyman, and much in
+need of help." Similarly might those rare creations Croaker and Jack
+Lofty be traced to their predecessors in the field of drama, even though
+remote. That they had their analogies in the life of Goldsmith, and have
+them in the lives of others, it is unnecessary to prove. But graphic as
+these characters are, they cannot make of 'The Good-natured Man' more
+than a passable second to 'She Stoops to Conquer.' For the premises of
+the plot are absurd, if not impossible; the complication is not much
+more natural than that of a Punch-and-Judy show, and the denouement but
+one shade less improbable than that of 'The Vicar of Wakefield.' The
+value of the play is principally historical, not æsthetic.
+
+Congreve's 'Love for Love,' Vanbrugh's 'Relapse, Farquhar's 'Beaux'
+Stratagem,' Goldsmith's 'She Stoops to Conquer,' and Sheridan's 'School
+for Scandal,' are the best comedies written since Jonson, Fletcher, and
+Massinger held the stage. In plot and diction 'She Stoops to Conquer' is
+equaled by Congreve; in character-drawing by Vanbrugh; in dramatic ease
+by Farquhar, in observation and wit by Sheridan: but by none is it
+equaled in humor, and in naturalness of dialogue it is _facile
+princeps_. Here again the characterization presents the twofold charm of
+universality and reality. Young Marlow is the traditional lover of the
+type of Young Bellair, Mirabell, and Aimwell, suggesting each in turn
+but different from all; he is also, in his combination of embarrassment
+and impudence, not altogether unlike the lad Oliver who, years ago, on a
+journey back to school, had mistaken Squire Featherstone's house in
+Ardagh for an inn.
+
+A similar adjustment of dramatic type and historic individual
+contributes to the durability of Tony Lumpkin. In his _dramatis persona_
+he is a practical joker of the family of Diccon and Truewit, and first
+cousin on the Blenkinsop side to that horse-flesh Sir Harry Beagle. But
+Anthony is more than the practical joker or the squire booby: he is a
+near relative of Captain O'Blunder and that whole countryside of
+generous, touch-and-go Irishmen; while in reality, _in propria persona_,
+he is that aspect of Noll Goldsmith that "lived the buckeen" in
+Ballymahon. Of the other characters of the play, Hardcastle, Mrs.
+Hardcastle, and Kate have a like prerogative of immortality. They are
+royally descended and personally unique.
+
+The comedy has been absurdly called farcical. There is much less of the
+farcical than in many a so-called "legitimate" comedy. None of the
+circumstances are purely fortuitous; none unnecessary. Humor and caprice
+tend steadily to complicate the action, and by natural interaction
+prepare the way for the denouement. The misunderstandings are the more
+piquant because of their manifest irony and their ephemeral character.
+Indeed, if any fault is to be found with the play, it is that Goldsmith
+did not let it resolve itself without the assistance of Sir Charles
+Marlow.
+
+One peculiarity not yet mentioned is illustrative of Goldsmith's method.
+A system of mutual borrowing characterizes his works. The same thought,
+in the same or nearly the same language, occurs in half a dozen. 'The
+Enquiry' lends a phrase to 'The Citizen,' who passes it on to the
+'Vicar,' who, thinking it too good to keep, hands it over to the
+'Good-natured Man,' whence it is borrowed by 'She Stoops to Conquer,'
+and turned to look like new,--like a large family of sisters with a
+small wardrobe in common. This habit does not indicate poverty of
+invention in Goldsmith, but associative imagination and artistic
+conservatism.
+
+Goldsmith was the only Irish story-writer and poet of his century. Four
+Irishmen adorned the prose of the period: Goldsmith is as eminent in the
+natural style as Swift in the satiric, or Steele in the polished, or
+Burke in the grand. In comedy the Irish led; but Steele, Macklin,
+Murphy, Kelly, do not compare with Farquhar, Sheridan, and Goldsmith.
+The worst work of these is good, and their best is the best of the
+century.
+
+Turning to Goldsmith the man, what the "draggle-tail Muses" paid him we
+find him spending on dress and rooms and jovial magnificence, on
+relatives or countrymen or the unknown poor, with such freedom that he
+is never relieved of the necessity of drudgery. Still, sensitive,
+good-natured, improvident, Irish,--and a genius,--Goldsmith lived as
+happy a life as his disposition would allow. He had the companionship of
+congenial friends, the love of men like Johnson and Reynolds, the final
+assurance that his art was appreciated by the public. To be sure, he was
+never out of debt, but that was his own fault; he was never out of
+credit either. "Was there ever poet so trusted?" exclaimed Johnson,
+after this poet had got beyond reach of his creditors. His difficulties
+however affected him as they affect most Irishmen,--only by cataclysms.
+He was serene or wretched, but generally the former: he packed _noctes
+coenæque deûm_ by the dozen into his life. "There is no man," said
+Reynolds, "whose company is more liked." But maybe that was because his
+naïveté, his brogue, his absent-mindedness, and his blunders (real or
+apparent) made him a ready butt for ridicule, not at the hands of
+Reynolds or Johnson, but of Beauclerk and the rest. For though his humor
+was sly, and his wit inimitable, Goldsmith's conversation was queer. It
+seemed to go by contraries. If permitted, he would ramble along in his
+hesitating, inconsequential fashion, on any subject under heaven--"too
+eager," thought Johnson, "to get on without knowing how he should get
+off." But if ignored, he would sit silent and apart,--sulking, thought
+Boswell. In fact, both the Dictator and laird of Auchinleck were of a
+mind that he tried too much to shine in conversation, for which he had
+no temper. But "Goldy's" _bons-mots_--such as the "Forsitan et nostrum
+nomen miscebitur _istis_" to Johnson, as they passed under the heads on
+Temple Bar,--make it evident that Garrick, with his
+
+  "Here lies Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,
+  Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,"
+
+and most of the members of the Literary Club, did not understand their
+Irishman. A timidity born of rough experience may have occasionally
+oppressed, a sensitiveness to ridicule or indifference may have confused
+him, a desire for approbation may frequently have led him to speak when
+silence had been golden; but that his conversation was "foolish" is the
+judgment of Philistines who make conversation an industry, not an
+amusement or an art.
+
+Boswell himself recounts more witty sayings than incomprehensible. And
+the "incomprehensible" are so only to Boswells and Hawkinses, who can
+hardly be expected to appreciate a humor, the vein of which is a mockery
+of their own solemn stupidity. Probably Goldsmith did say unconsidered
+things; he liked to think aloud in company, to "rattle on" for
+diversion. Keenly alive to the riches of language, he was the more
+likely to feel the embarrassment of impromptu selection; and while he
+was too much of a genius to keep count of every pearl, he was too
+considerate of his fellows to cast pearls only. But most of his fellows
+(Reynolds excepted) appreciated neither his drollery nor his
+unselfishness,--had not been educated up to the type of Irishman that
+with an artistic love of fun, is ever ready to promote the gayety of
+nations by sacrificing itself in the interest of laughter. For none but
+an artist can, without cracking a smile, offer up his wit on the altar
+of his humor.
+
+Prior describes Goldsmith as something under the middle size, sturdy,
+active, apparently capable of endurance; pale, forehead and upper lip
+rather projecting, face round, pitted with small-pox, and marked with
+strong lines of thinking. But Reynolds's painting idealizes and
+therefore best expresses the man, his twofold nature: on the one hand,
+self-depreciatory, generous, and improvident; on the other, aspiring,
+hungry for approval, laborious. Just such a man as would gild poverty
+with a smile, decline patronage and force his last sixpence on a
+street-singer, pile Pelion on Ossa for his publishers and turn out
+cameos for art.
+
+                                   [Signature: Charles Mills Gayley]
+
+
+
+THE VICAR'S FAMILY BECOME AMBITIOUS
+
+From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'
+
+
+I now began to find that all my long and painful lectures upon
+temperance, simplicity, and contentment were entirely disregarded. The
+distinctions lately paid us by our betters awakened that pride which I
+had laid asleep, but not removed. Our windows again, as formerly, were
+filled with washes for the neck and face. The sun was dreaded as an
+enemy to the skin without doors, and the fire as a spoiler of the
+complexion within. My wife observed that rising too early would hurt her
+daughters' eyes, that working after dinner would redden their noses,
+and she convinced me that the hands never looked so white as when they
+did nothing. Instead therefore of finishing George's shirts, we now had
+them new-modeling their old gauzes, or flourishing upon catgut. The poor
+Miss Flamboroughs, their former gay companions, were cast off as mean
+acquaintance, and the whole conversation ran upon high life and
+high-lived company, with pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical
+glasses.
+
+But we could have borne all this, had not a fortune-telling gypsy come
+to raise us into perfect sublimity. The tawny sibyl no sooner appeared
+than my girls came running to me for a shilling apiece, to cross her
+hand with silver. To say the truth, I was tired of being always wise,
+and could not help gratifying their request, because I loved to see them
+happy. I gave each of them a shilling, though for the honor of the
+family it must be observed that they never went without money
+themselves, as my wife always generously let them have a guinea each to
+keep in their pockets, but with strict injunctions never to change it.
+After they had been closeted up with the fortune-teller for some time, I
+knew by their looks, upon their returning, that they had been promised
+something great. "Well, my girls, how have you sped? Tell me, Livy, has
+the fortune-teller given thee a penny-worth?" "I protest, papa," says
+the girl, "I believe she deals with somebody that is not right, for she
+positively declared that I am to be married to a squire in less than a
+twelvemonth!" "Well now, Sophy, my child," said I, "and what sort of a
+husband are you to have?" "Sir," replied she, "I am to have a lord soon
+after my sister has married the squire." "How," cried I, "is that all
+you are to have for your two shillings? Only a lord and a squire for two
+shillings! You fools, I could have promised you a prince and a nabob for
+half the money!"
+
+This curiosity of theirs, however, was attended with very serious
+effects: we now began to think ourselves designed by the stars to
+something exalted, and already anticipated our future grandeur.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it once more,
+that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view are more pleasing
+than those crowned with fruition. In the first case we cook the dish to
+our own appetite; in the latter, nature cooks it for us. It is
+impossible to repeat the train of agreeable reveries we called up for
+our entertainment. We looked upon our fortunes as once more rising; and
+as the whole parish asserted that the Squire was in love with my
+daughter, she was actually so with him, for they persuaded her into the
+passion. In this agreeable interval my wife had the most lucky dreams in
+the world, which she took care to tell us every morning with great
+solemnity and exactness. It was one night a coffin and cross-bones, the
+sign of an approaching wedding; at another time she imagined her
+daughter's pockets filled with farthings, a certain sign of their being
+shortly stuffed with gold. The girls themselves had their omens. They
+felt strange kisses on their lips; they saw rings in the candle; purses
+bounced from the fire, and true-love knots lurked in the bottom of every
+teacup.
+
+Towards the end of the week we received a card from the town ladies, in
+which, with their compliments, they hoped to see all our family at
+church the Sunday following. All Saturday morning I could perceive, in
+consequence of this, my wife and daughters in close conference together,
+and now and then glancing at me with looks that betrayed a latent plot.
+To be sincere, I had strong suspicions that some absurd proposal was
+preparing for appearing with splendor the next day. In the evening they
+began their operations in a very regular manner, and my wife undertook
+to conduct the siege. After tea, when I seemed in spirits, she began
+thus: "I fancy, Charles my dear, we shall have a great deal of good
+company at our church to-morrow." "Perhaps we may, my dear," returned I;
+"though you need be under no uneasiness about that; you shall have a
+sermon whether there be or not." "That is what I expect," returned she;
+"but I think, my dear, we ought to appear there as decently as possible,
+for who knows what may happen?" "Your precautions," replied I, "are
+highly commendable. A decent behavior and appearance in church is what
+charms me. We should be devout and humble, cheerful and serene." "Yes,"
+cried she, "I know that; but I mean we should go there in as proper a
+manner as possible; not altogether like the scrubs about us." "You are
+quite right, my dear," returned I; "and I was going to make the very
+same proposal. The proper manner of going is to go there as early as
+possible, to have time for meditation before the service begins." "Phoo,
+Charles!" interrupted she; "all that is very true, but not what I would
+be at. I mean we should go there genteelly. You know the church is two
+miles off, and I protest I don't like to see my daughters trudging up to
+their pew all blowzed and red with walking, and looking for all the
+world as if they had been winners at a smock-race. Now, my dear, my
+proposal is this: there are our two plow-horses, the colt that has been
+in our family these nine years, and his companion Blackberry that has
+scarcely done an earthly thing this month past. They are both grown fat
+and lazy. Why should not they do something as well as we? And let me
+tell you, when Moses has trimmed them a little they will cut a very
+tolerable figure."
+
+To this proposal I objected that walking would be twenty times more
+genteel than such a paltry conveyance, as Blackberry was wall-eyed and
+the colt wanted a tail; that they had never been broke to the rein, but
+had a hundred vicious tricks; and that we had but one saddle and pillion
+in the whole house. All these objections however were overruled; so that
+I was obliged to comply. The next morning I perceived them not a little
+busy in collecting such materials as might be necessary for the
+expedition, but as I found it would be a business of time, I walked on
+to the church before, and they promised speedily to follow. I waited
+near an hour in the reading-desk for their arrival, but not finding them
+come as I expected, I was obliged to begin, and went through the
+service, not without some uneasiness at finding them absent. This was
+increased when all was finished, and no appearance of the family. I
+therefore walked back by the horse-way, which was five miles round,
+though the foot-way was but two, and when I got about half-way home,
+perceived the procession marching slowly forward towards the church; my
+son, my wife, and the two little ones exalted upon one horse, and my two
+daughters upon the other. I demanded the cause of their delay; but I
+soon found by their looks they had met with a thousand misfortunes on
+the road. The horses had at first refused to move from the door, till
+Mr. Burchell was kind enough to beat them forward for about two hundred
+yards with his cudgel. Next, the straps of my wife's pillion broke down,
+and they were obliged to stop to repair them before they could proceed.
+After that, one of the horses took it into his head to stand still, and
+neither blows nor entreaties could prevail with him to proceed. They
+were just recovering from this dismal situation when I found them; but
+perceiving everything safe, I own their present mortification did not
+much displease me, as it would give me many opportunities of future
+triumph, and teach my daughters more humility.
+
+Michaelmas Eve happening on the next day, we were invited to burn nuts
+and play tricks at neighbor Flamborough's. Our late mortifications had
+humbled us a little, or it is probable we might have rejected such an
+invitation with contempt; however, we suffered ourselves to be happy.
+Our honest neighbor's goose and dumplings were fine, and the lamb's
+wool, even in the opinion of my wife, who was a connoisseur, was
+excellent. It is true his manner of telling stories was not quite so
+well; they were very long and very dull, and all about himself, and we
+had laughed at them ten times before; however, we were kind enough to
+laugh at them once more.
+
+Mr. Burchell, who was of the party, was always fond of seeing some
+innocent amusement going forward, and set the boys and girls to
+blindman's buff. My wife too was persuaded to join in the diversion, and
+it gave me pleasure to think she was not yet too old. In the mean time
+my neighbor and I looked on, laughed at every feat, and praised our own
+dexterity when we were young. Hot cockles succeeded next, questions and
+commands followed that, and last of all they sat down to hunt the
+slipper. As every person may not be acquainted with this primeval
+pastime, it may be necessary to observe that the company at this play
+planted themselves in a ring upon the ground, all except one, who stands
+in the middle, whose business it is to catch a shoe which the company
+shove about under their hams from one to another, something like a
+weaver's shuttle. As it is impossible in this case for the lady who is
+up to face all the company at once, the great beauty of the play lies in
+hitting her a thump with the heel of the shoe on that side least capable
+of making a defense. It was in this manner that my eldest daughter was
+hemmed in and thumped about, all blowzed in spirits, and bawling for
+fair play with a voice that might deafen a ballad-singer, when,
+confusion on confusion! who should enter the room but our two great
+acquaintances from town, Lady Blarney and Miss Carolina Wilhelmina
+Amelia Skeggs! Description would but beggar, therefore it is unnecessary
+to describe this new mortification. Death! To be seen by ladies of such
+high breeding in such vulgar attitudes! Nothing better could ensue from
+such a vulgar play of Mr. Flamborough's proposing. We seemed stuck to
+the ground for some time, as if actually petrified with amazement.
+
+The two ladies had been at our house to see us, and finding us from
+home, came after us hither, as they were uneasy to know what accident
+could have kept us from church the day before. Olivia undertook to be
+our prolocutor, and delivered the whole in the summary way, only saying,
+"We were thrown from our horses." At which account the ladies were
+greatly concerned; but being told the family received no hurt, they were
+extremely glad; but being informed that we were almost killed by the
+fright, they were vastly sorry; but hearing that we had a very good
+night, they were extremely glad again. Nothing could exceed their
+complaisance to my daughters; their professions the last evening were
+warm, but now they were ardent. They protested a desire of having a more
+lasting acquaintance; Lady Blarney was particularly attached to Olivia;
+Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs (I love to give the whole name)
+took a greater fancy to her sister. They supported the conversation
+between themselves, while my daughters sat silent, admiring their
+exalted breeding. But as every reader, however beggarly himself, is fond
+of high-lived dialogues, with anecdotes of lords, ladies, and Knights of
+the Garter, I must beg leave to give him the concluding part of the
+present conversation.
+
+"All that I know of the matter," cried Miss Skeggs, "is this: that it
+may be true, or it may not be true; but this I can assure your ladyship,
+that the whole route was in amaze; his lordship turned all manner of
+colors, my lady fell into a swoon, but Sir Tomkyn, drawing his sword,
+swore he was hers to the last drop of his blood."
+
+"Well," replied our peeress, "this I can say: that the duchess
+never told me a syllable of the matter; and I believe her Grace
+would keep nothing a secret from me. This you may depend upon as
+fact: that the next morning my lord duke cried out three times to
+his _valet-de-chambre_, 'Jernigan, Jernigan, Jernigan, bring me
+my garters!'"
+
+But previously I should have mentioned the very impolite behavior of Mr.
+Burchell, who during this discourse sat with his face turned to the
+fire, and at the conclusion of every sentence would cry out
+"_Fudge!_"--an expression which displeased us all, and in some measure
+damped the rising spirit of the conversation.
+
+"Besides, my dear Skeggs," continued our peeress, "there is nothing of
+this in the copy of verses that Doctor Burdock made upon the occasion."
+_Fudge!_
+
+"I am surprised at that," cried Miss Skeggs; "for he seldom leaves
+anything out, as he writes only for his own amusement. But can your
+Ladyship favor me with a sight of them?" _Fudge!_
+
+"My dear creature," replied our peeress, "do you think I carry such
+things about me? Though they are very fine, to be sure, and I think
+myself something of a judge; at least I know what pleases myself.
+Indeed, I was ever an admirer of all Doctor Burdock's little pieces; for
+except what he does, and our dear countess at Hanover Square, there's
+nothing comes out but the most lowest stuff in nature; not a bit of high
+life among them." _Fudge!_
+
+"Your Ladyship should except," says t'other, "your own things in the
+Lady's Magazine. I hope you'll say there's nothing low-lived there? But
+I suppose we are to have no more from that quarter?" _Fudge!_
+
+"Why, my dear," says the lady, "you know my reader and companion has
+left me to be married to Captain Roach, and as my poor eyes won't suffer
+me to write myself, I have been for some time looking out for another. A
+proper person is no easy matter to find, and to be sure, thirty pounds a
+year is a small stipend for a well-bred girl of character, that can
+read, write, and behave in company; as for the chits about town, there
+is no bearing them about one." _Fudge!_
+
+"That I know," cried Miss Skeggs, "by experience. For of the three
+companions I had this last half-year, one of them refused to do plain
+work an hour in the day, another thought twenty-five guineas a year too
+small a salary, and I was obliged to send away the third because I
+suspected an intrigue with the chaplain. Virtue, my dear Lady Blarney,
+virtue is worth any price; but where is that to be found?" _Fudge!_
+
+My wife had been for a long time all attention to this discourse, but
+was particularly struck with the latter part of it. Thirty pounds and
+twenty-five guineas a year made fifty-six pounds five shillings, English
+money, all which was in a manner going a-begging, and might easily be
+secured in the family. She for a moment studied my looks for
+approbation; and to own a truth, I was of opinion that two such places
+would fit our two daughters exactly. Besides, if the Squire had any real
+affection for my eldest daughter, this would be the way to make her
+every way qualified for her fortune. My wife therefore was resolved that
+we should not be deprived of such advantages for want of assurance, and
+undertook to harangue for the family. "I hope," cried she, "your
+ladyships will pardon my present presumption. It is true, we have no
+right to pretend to such favors; but yet it is natural for me to wish
+putting my children forward in the world. And I will be bold to say my
+two girls have had a pretty good education and capacity; at least, the
+country can't show better. They can read, write, and cast accounts; they
+understand their needle, broad-stitch, cross-and-change, and all manner
+of plain work; they can pink, point, and frill, and know something of
+music; they can do up small-clothes, work upon catgut; my eldest can cut
+paper, and my youngest has a very pretty manner of telling fortunes upon
+the cards." _Fudge!_
+
+When she had delivered this pretty piece of eloquence, the two ladies
+looked at each other a few moments in silence, with an air of doubt and
+importance. At last Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs condescended
+to observe that the young ladies, from the opinion she could form of
+them from so slight an acquaintance, seemed very fit for such
+employments. "But a thing of this kind, madam," cried she, addressing my
+spouse, "requires a thorough examination into characters, and a more
+perfect knowledge of each other. Not, madam," continued she, "that I in
+the least suspect the young ladies' virtue, prudence, and discretion;
+but there is a form in these things, madam, there is a form."
+
+My wife approved her suspicions very much, observing that she was very
+apt to be suspicious herself; but referred her to all the neighbors for
+a character; but this our peeress declined as unnecessary, alleging that
+her cousin Thornhill's recommendation would be sufficient, and upon this
+we rested our petition.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When we returned home, the night was dedicated to schemes of future
+conquest. Deborah exerted much sagacity in conjecturing which of the two
+girls was likely to have the best place, and most opportunities of
+seeing good company. The only obstacle to our preferment was in
+obtaining the Squire's recommendation; but he had already shown us too
+many instances of his friendship to doubt of it now. Even in bed my wife
+kept up the usual theme: "Well, faith, my dear Charles, between
+ourselves, I think we have made an excellent day's work of it." "Pretty
+well," cried I, not knowing what to say. "What, only pretty well!"
+returned she; "I think it is very well. Suppose the girls should come to
+make acquaintances of taste in town! This I am assured of, that London
+is the only place in the world for all manner of husbands. Besides, my
+dear, stranger things happen every day; and as ladies of quality are so
+taken with my daughters, what will not men of quality be! _Entre nous_,
+I protest I like my Lady Blarney vastly; so very obliging. However, Miss
+Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs has my warm heart. But yet when they
+came to talk of places in town, you saw at once how I nailed them. Tell
+me, my dear, don't you think I did for my children there?" "Ay,"
+returned I, not knowing well what to think of the matter; "Heaven grant
+that they may be both the better for it this day three months!" This was
+one of those observations I usually made to impress my wife with an
+opinion of my sagacity; for if the girls succeeded, then it was a pious
+wish fulfilled; but if anything unfortunate ensued, then it might be
+looked upon as a prophecy.
+
+
+
+NEW MISFORTUNES: BUT OFFENSES ARE EASILY PARDONED WHERE THERE IS LOVE AT
+BOTTOM
+
+From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'
+
+
+The next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out on my return
+home. As we traveled along, I strove by every persuasion to calm her
+sorrows and fears, and to arm her with resolution to bear the presence
+of her offended mother. I took every opportunity, from the prospect of a
+fine country through which we passed, to observe how much kinder Heaven
+was to us than we were to each other, and that the misfortunes of
+nature's making were very few. I assured her that she should never
+perceive any change in my affections, and that during my life, which yet
+might be long, she might depend upon a guardian and an instructor. I
+armed her against the censures of the world; showed her that books were
+sweet, unreproaching companions to the miserable, and that if they could
+not bring us to enjoy life, they would at least teach us to endure it.
+
+The hired horse that we rode was to be put up that night at an inn by
+the way, within about five miles from my house; and as I was willing to
+prepare my family for my daughter's reception, I determined to leave her
+that night at the inn, and to return for her accompanied by my daughter
+Sophia, early the next morning. It was night before we reached our
+appointed stage; however, after seeing her provided with a decent
+apartment, and having ordered the hostess to prepare proper
+refreshments, I kissed her, and proceeded towards home. And now my heart
+caught new sensations of pleasure, the nearer I approached that peaceful
+mansion. As a bird that had been frighted from its nest, my affections
+outwent my haste, and hovered round my little fireside with all the
+rapture of expectation. I called up the many fond things I had to say,
+and anticipated the welcome I was to receive. I already felt my wife's
+tender embrace, and smiled at the joy of my little ones. As I walked but
+slowly, the night waned apace. The laborers of the day were all retired
+to rest; the lights were out in every cottage; no sounds were heard but
+of the shrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed watch-dog at the hollow
+distance. I approached my little abode of pleasure, and before I was
+within a furlong of the place our honest mastiff came running to welcome
+me.
+
+It was now near midnight that I came to knock at my door; all was still
+and silent; my heart dilated with unutterable happiness; when to my
+amazement I saw the house bursting out in a blaze of fire, and every
+aperture red with conflagration! I gave a loud convulsive outcry, and
+fell upon the pavement insensible. This alarmed my son, who had till
+this been asleep, and he perceiving the flames instantly waked my wife
+and daughter, and all running out naked and wild with apprehension,
+recalled me to life with their anguish. But it was only to objects of
+new terror; for the flames had by this time caught the roof of our
+dwelling, part after part continuing to fall in, while the family stood
+with silent agony looking on, as if they enjoyed the blaze. I gazed upon
+them and upon it by turns, and then looked round me for my two little
+ones: but they were not to be seen. Oh misery! "Where," cried I, "where
+are my little ones?" "They are burnt to death in the flames," said my
+wife calmly, "and I will die with them." That moment I heard the cry of
+the babes within, who were just awaked by the fire; and nothing could
+have stopped me. "Where, where are my children?" cried I, rushing
+through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber in which they
+were confined; "where are my little ones?" "Here, dear papa, here we
+are," cried they together, while the flames were just catching the bed
+where they lay. I caught them both in my arms, and snatched them through
+the fire as fast as possible, while just as I was got out, the roof
+sunk in. "Now," cried I, holding up my children, "now let the flames
+burn on, and all my possessions perish. Here they are; I have saved my
+treasure. Here, my dearest, here are our treasures, and we shall yet be
+happy." We kissed our little darlings a thousand times, they clasped us
+round the neck and seemed to share our transports, while their mother
+laughed and wept by turns.
+
+I now stood a calm spectator of the flames, and after some time began to
+perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched in a terrible manner.
+It was therefore out of my power to give my son any assistance, either
+in attempting to save our goods, or preventing the flames spreading to
+our corn. By this time the neighbors were alarmed, and came running to
+our assistance; but all they could do was to stand, like us, spectators
+of the calamity. My goods, among which were the notes I had reserved for
+my daughters' fortunes, were entirely consumed, except a box with some
+papers that stood in the kitchen, and two or three things more of little
+consequence which my son brought away in the beginning. The neighbors
+contributed, however, what they could to lighten our distress. They
+brought us clothes, and furnished one of our out-houses with kitchen
+utensils; so that by daylight we had another, though a wretched
+dwelling, to retire to. My honest next neighbor and his children were
+not the least assiduous in providing us with everything necessary, and
+offering whatever consolation untutored benevolence could suggest.
+
+When the fears of my family had subsided, curiosity to know the cause of
+my long stay began to take place; having therefore informed them of
+every particular, I proceeded to prepare them for the reception of our
+lost one, and though we had nothing but wretchedness now to impart, I
+was willing to procure her a welcome to what we had. This task would
+have been more difficult but for our recent calamity, which had humbled
+my wife's pride and blunted it by more poignant afflictions. Being
+unable to go for my poor child myself, as my arm grew very painful, I
+sent my son and daughter, who soon returned, supporting the wretched
+delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her mother, whom no
+instructions of mine could persuade to a perfect reconciliation; for
+women have a much stronger sense of female error than men. "Ah, madam,"
+cried her mother, "this is but a poor place you have come to after so
+much finery. My daughter Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment
+to persons who have kept company only with people of distinction. Yes,
+Miss Livy, your poor father and I have suffered very much of late; but I
+hope Heaven will forgive you." During this reception the unhappy victim
+stood pale and trembling, unable to weep or to reply; but I could not
+continue a silent spectator of her distress; wherefore, assuming a
+degree of severity in my voice and manner which was ever followed with
+instant submission:--"I entreat, woman, that my words may be now marked
+once for all: I have here brought you back a poor deluded wanderer; her
+return to duty demands the revival of our tenderness. The real hardships
+of life are now coming fast upon us; let us not therefore increase them
+by dissension among each other. If we live harmoniously together, we may
+yet be contented, as there are enough of us to shut out the censuring
+world and keep each other in countenance. The kindness of Heaven is
+promised to the penitent, and let ours be directed by the example.
+Heaven, we are assured, is much more pleased to view a repentant sinner
+than ninety-nine persons who have supported a course of undeviating
+rectitude. And this is right; for that single effort by which we stop
+short in the down-hill path to perdition, is itself a greater exertion
+of virtue than a hundred acts of justice."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some assiduity was now required to make our present abode as convenient
+as possible, and we were soon again qualified to enjoy our former
+serenity. Being disabled myself from assisting my son in our usual
+occupations, I read to my family from the few books that were saved, and
+particularly from such as by amusing the imagination contributed to ease
+the heart. Our good neighbors, too, came every day with the kindest
+condolence, and fixed a time in which they were all to assist at
+repairing my former dwelling. Honest Farmer Williams was not last among
+these visitors, but heartily offered his friendship. He would even have
+renewed his addresses to my daughter; but she rejected them in such a
+manner as totally repressed his future solicitations. Her grief seemed
+formed for continuing, and she was the only person of our little society
+that a week did not restore to cheerfulness. She had now lost that
+unblushing innocence which once taught her to respect herself, and to
+seek pleasure by pleasing. Anxiety now had taken strong possession of
+her mind, her beauty began to be impaired with her constitution, and
+neglect still more contributed to diminish it. Every tender epithet
+bestowed on her sister brought a pang to her heart and a tear to her
+eye; and as one vice, though cured, ever plants others where it has
+been, so her former guilt, though driven out by repentance, left
+jealousy and envy behind. I strove in a thousand ways to lessen her
+care, and even forgot my own pain in a concern for hers, collecting such
+amusing passages of history as a strong memory and some reading could
+suggest. "Our happiness, my dear," I would say, "is in the power of One
+who can bring it about a thousand unforeseen ways that mock our
+foresight."
+
+In this manner I would attempt to amuse my daughter; but she listened
+with divided attention, for her own misfortunes engrossed all the pity
+she once had for those of another, and nothing gave her ease. In company
+she dreaded contempt, and in solitude she only found anxiety. Such was
+the color of her wretchedness, when we received certain information that
+Mr. Thornhill was going to be married to Miss Wilmot, for whom I always
+suspected he had a real passion, though he took every opportunity before
+me to express his contempt both of her person and fortune. This news
+only served to increase poor Olivia's affliction; such a flagrant breach
+of fidelity was more than her courage could support. I was resolved
+however to get more certain information, and to defeat if possible the
+completion of his designs, by sending my son to old Mr. Wilmot's with
+instructions to know the truth of the report, and to deliver Miss Wilmot
+a letter intimating Mr. Thornhill's conduct in my family. My son went in
+pursuance of my directions, and in three days returned, assuring us of
+the truth of the account; but that he had found it impossible to deliver
+the letter, which he was therefore obliged to leave, as Mr. Thornhill
+and Miss Wilmot were visiting round the country. They were to be
+married, he said, in a few days, having appeared together at church the
+Sunday before he was there, in great splendor; the bride attended by six
+young ladies, and he by as many gentlemen. Their approaching nuptials
+filled the whole country with rejoicing, and they usually rode out
+together in the grandest equipage that had been seen in the country for
+years. All the friends of both families, he said, were there,
+particularly the Squire's uncle, Sir William Thornhill, who bore so good
+a character. He added that nothing but mirth and feasting were going
+forward; that all the country praised the young bride's beauty and the
+bridegroom's fine person, and that they were immensely fond of each
+other; concluding that he could not help thinking Mr. Thornhill one of
+the most happy men in the world.
+
+"Why, let him if he can," returned I; "but my son, observe this bed of
+straw and unsheltering roof, those moldering walls and humid floor, my
+wretched body thus disabled by fire, and my children weeping round me
+for bread. You have come home, my child, to all this; yet here, even
+here, you see a man that would not for a thousand worlds exchange
+situations. O my children, if you could but learn to commune with your
+own hearts, and know what noble company you can make them, you would
+little regard the elegance and splendor of the worthless. Almost all men
+have been taught to call life a passage, and themselves the travelers.
+The similitude still may be improved, when we observe that the good are
+joyful and serene, like travelers that are going towards home; the
+wicked but by intervals happy, like travelers that are going into
+exile."
+
+My compassion for my poor daughter, overpowered by this new disaster,
+interrupted what I had further to observe. I bade her mother support
+her, and after a short time she recovered. She appeared from that time
+more calm, and I imagined had gained a new degree of resolution; but
+appearances deceived me, for her tranquillity was the languor of
+overwrought resentment. A supply of provisions charitably sent us by my
+kind parishioners seemed to diffuse new cheerfulness among the rest of
+the family; nor was I displeased at seeing them once more sprightly and
+at ease. It would have been unjust to damp their satisfactions merely to
+condole with resolute melancholy, or to burden them with a sadness they
+did not feel. Thus once more the tale went round, and the song was
+demanded, and cheerfulness condescended to hover round our little
+habitation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for the season; so
+that we agreed to breakfast together on the honeysuckle bank; where,
+while we sat, my youngest daughter, at my request, joined her voice to
+the concert on the trees about us. It was in this place my poor Olivia
+first met her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness.
+But that melancholy which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired
+by sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. Her
+mother, too, upon this occasion felt a pleasing distress, and wept, and
+loved her daughter as before. "Do, my pretty Olivia," cried she, "let us
+have that little melancholy air your papa was so fond of; your sister
+Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child; it will please your old
+father." She complied in a manner so exquisitely pathetic as moved me:
+
+  "When lovely woman stoops to folly,
+    And finds too late that men betray,
+  What charm can soothe her melancholy?
+    What art can wash her guilt away?
+
+  "The only art her guilt to cover,
+    "To hide her shame from every eye,
+  To give repentance to her lover,
+    And wring his bosom, is--to die."
+
+As she was concluding the last stanza, to which an interruption in her
+voice from sorrow gave peculiar softness, the appearance of Mr.
+Thornhill's equipage at a distance alarmed us all, but particularly
+increased the uneasiness of my eldest daughter, who, desirous of
+shunning her betrayer, returned to the house with her sister. In a few
+minutes he was alighted from his chariot, and making up to the place
+where I was still sitting, inquired after my health with his usual air
+of familiarity. "Sir," replied I, "your present assurance only serves to
+aggravate the baseness of your character; and there was a time when I
+would have chastised your insolence for presuming thus to appear before
+me. But now you are safe; for age has cooled my passions, and my calling
+restrains me."
+
+"I vow, my dear sir," returned he, "I am amazed at all this, nor can I
+understand what it means. I hope you don't think your daughter's late
+excursion with me had anything criminal in it."
+
+"Go," cried I; "thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful wretch, and every way
+a liar; but your meanness secures you from my anger. Yet, sir, I am
+descended from a family that would not have borne this! And so, thou
+vile thing! to gratify a momentary passion, thou hast made one poor
+creature wretched for life, and polluted a family that had nothing but
+honor for their portion."
+
+"If she or you," returned he, "are resolved to be miserable, I cannot
+help it. But you may still be happy; and whatever opinion you may have
+formed of me, you shall ever find me ready to contribute to it. We can
+marry her to another in a short time, and what is more, she may keep
+her lover beside; for I protest I shall ever continue to have a true
+regard for her."
+
+I found all my passions alarmed at this new degrading proposal; for
+although the mind may often be calm under great injuries, little
+villainy can at any time get within the soul and sting it into rage.
+"Avoid my sight, thou reptile," cried I, "nor continue to insult me with
+thy presence. Were my brave son at home he would not suffer this; but I
+am old and disabled, and every way undone."
+
+"I find," cried he, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in a harsher
+manner than I intended. But as I have shown you what may be hoped from
+my friendship, it may not be improper to represent what may be the
+consequences of my resentment. My attorney, to whom your late bond has
+been transferred, threatens hard; nor do I know how to prevent the
+course of justice except by paying the money myself, which, as I have
+been at some expenses lately previous to my intended marriage, is not so
+easy to be done. And then my steward talks of driving for the rent: it
+is certain he knows his duty, for I never trouble myself with affairs of
+that nature. Yet still I could wish to serve you, and even to have you
+and your daughter present at my marriage, which is shortly to be
+solemnized with Miss Wilmot; it is even the request of my charming
+Arabella herself, whom I hope you will not refuse."
+
+"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "hear me once for all: as to your marriage
+with any but my daughter, that I never will consent to; and though your
+friendship could raise me to a throne, or your resentment sink me to the
+grave, yet would I despise both. Thou hast once woefully, irreparably
+deceived me. I reposed my heart upon thine honor, and have found its
+baseness. Never more, therefore, expect friendship from me. Go, and
+possess what fortune has given thee--beauty, riches, health, and
+pleasure. Go and leave me to want, infamy, disease, and sorrow. Yet
+humbled as I am, shall my heart still vindicate its dignity, and though
+thou hast my forgiveness, thou shalt ever have my contempt."
+
+"If so," returned he, "depend upon it you shall feel the effects of this
+insolence; and we shall shortly see which is the fittest object of
+scorn, you or me." Upon which he departed abruptly.
+
+
+
+PICTURES FROM 'THE DESERTED VILLAGE'
+
+
+  Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,
+  Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.
+  Here, as I take my solitary rounds
+  Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,
+  And, many a year elapsed, return to view
+  Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,
+  Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train,
+  Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
+  In all my wanderings round this world of care,
+  In all my griefs,--and God has given my share,--
+  I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
+  Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
+  To husband out life's taper at the close,
+  And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
+  I still had hopes--for pride attends us still--
+  Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill;
+  Around my fire an evening group to draw,
+  And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;
+  And as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue
+  Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,
+  I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
+  Here to return--and die at home at last.
+
+  Oh, blest retirement! friend to life's decline,
+  Retreat from care, that never must be mine,
+  How blest is he who crowns in shades like these
+  A youth of labor with an age of ease;
+  Who quits a world where strong temptations try,
+  And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
+  For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
+  Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep;
+  No surly porter stands in guilty state,
+  To spurn imploring famine from the gate:
+  But on he moves to meet his latter end,
+  Angels around befriending virtue's friend;
+  Bends to the grave with unperceived decay,
+  While resignation gently slopes the way;
+  And, all his prospects brightening to the last,
+    His heaven commences ere the world be past.
+
+  Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
+  Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
+  There, as I passed with careless steps and slow,
+  The mingling notes came softened from below:
+  The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
+  The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;
+  The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool;
+  The playful children just let loose from school;
+  The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind,
+  And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
+  These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
+  And filled each pause the nightingale had made.
+  But now the sounds of population fail;
+  No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale;
+  No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
+  But all the bloomy flush of life is fled.
+  All but yon widowed, solitary thing
+  That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
+  She, wretched matron,--forced in age, for bread,
+  To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
+  To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn,
+  To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn,--
+  She only left of all the harmless train,
+  The sad historian of the pensive plain.
+
+  Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
+  And still where many a garden flower grows wild,
+  There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
+  The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
+  A man he was to all the country dear,
+  And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
+  Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
+  Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place:
+  Unpracticed he to fawn, or seek for power,
+  By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
+  Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
+  More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
+  His house was known to all the vagrant train,--
+  He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;
+  The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
+  Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
+  The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
+  Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
+  The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
+  Sate by his fire, and talked the night away,
+  Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
+  Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.
+  Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
+  And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
+  Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
+  His pity gave ere charity began.
+
+  Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
+  And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side:
+  But in his duty prompt at every call,
+  He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.
+  And as a bird each fond endearment tries
+  To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
+  He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
+  Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
+
+  Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
+  And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,
+  The reverend champion stood. At his control,
+  Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
+  Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
+  And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
+
+  At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
+  His looks adorned the venerable place;
+  Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
+  And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.
+  The service past, around the pious man,
+  With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;
+  Even children followed, with endearing wile,
+  And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
+  His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest;
+  Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest;
+  To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,
+  But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven:
+  As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
+  Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
+  Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
+  Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
+
+  Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
+  With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
+  There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
+  The village master taught his little school.
+  A man severe he was, and stern to view;
+  I knew him well, and every truant knew:
+  Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
+  The day's disasters in his morning face;
+  Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
+  At all his jokes,--for many a joke had he;
+  Full well, the busy whisper, circling round,
+  Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
+  Yet he was kind; or if severe in aught,
+  The love he bore to learning was in fault.
+  The village all declared how much he knew:
+  'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
+  Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
+  And even the story ran that he could _gauge_.
+  In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,
+  For even though vanquished he could argue still;
+  While words of learnèd length and thundering sound,
+  Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,
+  And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
+  That one small head could carry all he knew.
+  But past is all his fame. The very spot
+  Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.
+
+  Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,
+  Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,
+  Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,
+  Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired,
+  Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,
+  And news much older than their ale went round.
+  Imagination fondly stoops to trace
+  The parlor splendors of that festive place:
+  The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor,
+  The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;
+  The chest contrived a double debt to pay,
+  A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
+  The pictures placed for ornament and use,
+  The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;
+  The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,
+  With aspen boughs and flowers and fennel gay,
+  While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,
+  Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.
+
+  Vain, transitory splendors! could not all
+  Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?
+  Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
+  An hour's importance to the poor man's heart.
+  Thither no more the peasant shall repair
+  To sweet oblivion of his daily care;
+  No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
+  No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
+  No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
+  Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;
+  The host himself no longer shall be found
+  Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;
+  Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,
+  Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.
+
+  Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain
+  These simple blessings of the lowly train;
+  To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
+  One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
+  Spontaneous joys where nature has its play,
+  The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;
+  Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
+  Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.
+  But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,
+  With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed,--
+  In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
+  The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;
+  And even while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
+  The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.
+
+
+
+CONTRASTED NATIONAL TYPES
+
+From 'The Traveller'
+
+
+  My soul, turn from them; turn we to survey
+  Where rougher climes a nobler race display;
+  Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,
+  And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.
+  No product here the barren hills afford,
+  But man and steel, the soldier and his sword;
+  No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
+  But winter lingering chills the lap of May;
+  No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
+  But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
+
+  Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm.
+  Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.
+  Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small
+  He sees his little lot the lot of all;
+  Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
+  To shame the meanness of his humble shed;
+  No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal
+  To make him loathe his vegetable meal;
+  But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
+  Each wish contracting fits him to the soil.
+  Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
+  Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes;
+  With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
+  Or drives his venturous plowshare to the steep;
+  Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,
+  And drags the struggling savage into day.
+  At night returning, every labor sped,
+  He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
+  Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
+  His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
+  While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard,
+  Displays her cleanly platter on the board;
+  And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,
+  With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
+
+  Thus every good his native wilds impart,
+  Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;
+  And even those ills that round his mansion rise,
+  Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies.
+  Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
+  And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;
+  And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
+  Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,
+  So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
+  But bind him to his native mountains more.
+
+  Such are the charms to barren states assigned;
+  Their wants but few, their wishes all confined.
+  Yet let them only share the praises due,--
+  If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;
+  For every want that stimulates the breast
+  Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.
+  Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies
+  That first excites desire, and then supplies;
+  Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,
+  To fill the languid pause with finer joy;
+  Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,
+  Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.
+  Their level life is but a smoldering fire,
+  Unquenched by want, unfanned by strong desire;
+  Unfit for raptures, or if raptures cheer
+  On some high festival of once a year,
+  In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,
+  Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.
+
+  But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow:
+  Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low;
+  For as refinement stops, from sire to son
+  Unaltered, unimproved, the manners run;
+  And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart
+  Falls blunted from each indurated heart.
+  Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
+  May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest;
+  But all the gentler morals, such as play
+  Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way,
+  These, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly,
+  To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.
+
+  To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,
+  I turn; and France displays her bright domain.
+  Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,
+  Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please,
+  How often have I led thy sportive choir,
+  With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire!
+  Where shading elms along the margin grew,
+  And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew;
+  And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,
+  But mocked all tune, and marred the dancer's skill,
+  Yet would the village praise my wondrous power,
+  And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour.
+  Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
+  Have led their children through the mirthful maze;
+  And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,
+  Has frisked beneath the burthen of threescore.
+
+  So blest a life these thoughtless realms display,
+  Thus idly busy rolls their world away:
+  Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear,
+  For honor forms the social temper here.
+  Honor, that praise which real merit gains,
+  Or even imaginary worth obtains,
+  Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,
+  It shifts in splendid traffic round the land;
+  From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,
+  And all are taught an avarice of praise:
+  They please, are pleased, they give to get esteem,
+  Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.
+
+  But while this softer art their bliss supplies,
+  It gives their follies also room to rise:
+  For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought,
+  Enfeebles all internal strength of thought;
+  And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
+  Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
+  Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
+  Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;
+  Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,
+  And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;
+  Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
+  To boast one splendid banquet once a year:
+  The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
+  Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.
+
+
+
+
+IVÁN ALEKSANDROVITCH GONCHARÓF
+
+(1812-)
+
+BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
+
+[Illustration: I.V. GONCHARÓF]
+
+
+Among the Russian novelists of the first rank stands Iván the son of
+Alexander Goncharóf. His life has been almost synchronous with the
+century. He was born in 1812 in the city of Simbirsk, on the Volga below
+Nizhni Nóvgorod. His father, a wealthy merchant of that flourishing
+town, died when the boy was only three years old, leaving him in the
+care of his mother, a conscientious and lovely woman, who, without a
+remarkable education, nevertheless determined that her son should have
+the best that could be provided. In this she was cordially assisted by
+Ivàn's godfather, a retired naval officer who lived in one of her houses
+and was a cultivated, lively, and lovable man, the centre of the best
+society of the provincial city. His tales of travel and adventure early
+implanted in the boy a great passion for reading and study about foreign
+lands, and the desire to see the world.
+
+He was at first taught at home; then he was sent to a private school
+which had been established by a local priest for the benefit of
+neighboring land-owners and gentry. This priest had been educated at the
+Theological School at Kazán, and was distinguished for his courtly
+manners and general cultivation. His wife--for it must be remembered
+that the Russian priesthood is not celibate--was a fascinating French
+woman, and she taught her native tongue in her husband's school. This
+remarkable little institution had a small but select library, and here
+young Goncharóf indulged his taste in reading by devouring the Voyages
+of Captain Cook, Mungo Park, and others, the histories of Karamzin and
+Rollin, the poetical works of Tasso and Fenelon, as well as the romantic
+fiction of that day; he was especially fascinated by 'The Heir of
+Redclyffe.' His reading, however, was ill regulated and not well adapted
+for his mental discipline. At twelve he was taken by his mother to
+Moscow, where he had the opportunity to study English and German as well
+as to continue his reading in French, in which he had already been well
+grounded.
+
+In 1831 he entered Moscow University, electing the Philological Faculty.
+There were at that time in the University a coterie of young men who
+afterwards became famous as writers, and the lectures delivered by a
+number of enthusiastic young professors were admirably calculated to
+develop the best in those who heard them. He finished the complete
+course, and after a brief visit at his native place went to St.
+Petersburg, where he entered the Ministry of Finance. Gogol, and
+Goncharóf himself, have painted the depressing influence of the
+officialdom then existing. The _chinóvnik_ as painted by those early
+realists was a distinct type. But on the other hand, there was a
+delightful society at St. Petersburg, and the literary impulses of
+talented young men were fostered by its leaders. Some of these men
+founded a new journal of which Salonitsuin was the leading spirit, and
+in this appeared Goncharóf's first articles. They were of a humoristic
+tendency. His first serious work was entitled 'Obuiknavénnaya Istóriya'
+(An Ordinary Story),--a rather melancholy tale, showing how youthful
+enthusiasm and the dreams of progress and perfection can be killed by
+formalism: Aleksandr Adúyef the romantic dreamer is contrasted with his
+practical uncle Peter Ivánovitch. The second part was not completed when
+the first part was placed in the hands of the critic Byelinsky, the
+sovereign arbiter on things literary. Byelinsky gave it his
+"imprimatur," and it was published in the Sovreménnik (Contemporary) in
+1847. The conception of his second and by all odds his best romance,
+'Oblómof,' was already in his mind; and the first draft was published in
+the Illustrated Album, under the title 'Son Oblómova' (Oblómof's Dream),
+the following year.
+
+In 1852 Goncharóf received from the Marine Ministry a proposition to
+sail around the world as private secretary to Admiral Putyátin. On his
+return he contributed to various magazines sketches of his experiences,
+and finally published a handsome volume of his travels entitled 'Phregat
+Pállada' (The Frigate Pallas). In 1857 he went to Carlsbad and completed
+'Oblómof' on which he had been working so many years. It appeared in
+Otetchestvenniya Zapíski (Annals of the Fatherland) in 1858 and 1859,
+and made a profound sensation. The hero was recognized as a perfectly
+elaborated portrait of a not uncommon type of Russian character: a
+good-natured, warm-hearted, healthy young man, so enervated by the
+atmosphere of indolence into which he has allowed himself to sink, that
+nothing serves to rouse him. Love is the only impulse which could
+galvanize him into life. Across his path comes the beautiful Olga, whom
+the Russians claim as a poetic and at the same time a genuine
+representative of the best Russian womanhood. Vigorous, alert, with mind
+and heart equally well developed, she stirs the latent manhood of
+Oblómof; but when he comes to face the responsibilities, the cares, and
+the duties of matrimony, he has not the courage to enter upon them.
+Olga marries Oblómof's friend Stoltz, whom Goncharóf intended to be a
+no less typical specimen of Russian manhood, and whom most critics
+consider overdrawn and not true to life. The novel is a series of
+wonderful _genre_ pictures: his portraits are marvels of finish and
+delicacy; and there are a number of dramatic scenes, although the story
+as a whole lacks movement. The first chapter, which is here reproduced,
+is chosen not as perhaps the finest in the book, but as thoroughly
+characteristic. It is also a fine specimen of Russian humor.
+
+Goncharóf finished in 1868 his third novel, entitled 'Abruíf' (The
+Precipice). It was published first in the Viéstnik Yevrópui (European
+Messenger), and in book form in 1870. In this he tries to portray the
+type of the Russian Nihilist; but Volokhóf is regarded rather as a
+caricature than as a faithful portrait. In contrast with him stands the
+beautiful Viera; but just as Volokhóf falls below Oblómof, so Viera
+yields to Olga in perfect realism. One of the best characters in the
+story is the dilettante Raísky, the type of the man who has an artistic
+nature but no energy. One of the most important characters of the book
+is Viera's grandmother: the German translation of 'The Precipice' is
+entitled 'The Grandmother's Fault.'
+
+Goncharóf has written a few literary essays, and during the past few
+years has contributed to one of the Russian reviews a series of literary
+recollections. But his fame with posterity will depend principally on
+his 'Oblómof,' the name of which has given to the language a new
+word,--_oblómovshchina_[F] Oblómovism,--the typically Russian indolence
+which was induced by the peculiar social conditions existing in Russia
+before the emancipation of the serfs in 1861: indifference to all social
+questions; the expectation that others will do your work; or as
+expressed in the Russian proverb, "the trusting in others as in God, but
+in yourself as in the Devil."
+
+                                    [Signature: Nathan Haskell Dole]
+
+    [F] Oblómof is the genitive plural of the word oblóm or oblám,
+    a term expressive of anything broken or almost useless, or
+    even bad; a rude, awkward, unfinished man.
+
+
+
+OBLÓMOF
+
+
+In Garókhavaya Street, in one of those immense houses the population
+of which would suffice for a whole provincial city, there lay one
+morning in bed in his apartment Ílya Ílyitch Oblómof. He was a
+pleasant-appearing man of two or three and twenty, of medium stature,
+with dark gray eyes; but his face lacked any fixed idea or concentration
+of purpose. A thought would wander like a free bird over his features,
+flutter in his eyes, light on his parted lips, hide itself in the
+wrinkles of his brow, then entirely vanish away; and over his whole
+countenance would spread the shadeless light of unconcern.
+
+From his face this indifference extended to the attitudes of his whole
+body, even to the folds of his dressing-gown. Occasionally his eyes were
+darkened by an expression of weariness or disgust, but neither weariness
+nor disgust could for an instant dispel from his face the indolence
+which was the dominant and habitual expression not only of his body, but
+also of his very soul. And his soul was frankly and clearly betrayed in
+his eyes, in his smile, in every movement of his head, of his hands.
+
+A cool superficial observer, glancing at Oblómof as he passed him by,
+would have said, "He must be a good-natured, simple-hearted fellow." Any
+one looking deeper, more sympathetically, would after a few moments'
+scrutiny turn away with a smile, with a feeling of agreeable
+uncertainty.
+
+Oblómof's complexion was not florid, not tawny, and not positively
+pallid, but was indeterminate,--or seemed to be so, perhaps because it
+was flabby; not by reason of age, but by lack of exercise or of fresh
+air or of both. His body, to judge by the dull, transparent color of his
+neck, by his little plump hands, his drooping shoulders, seemed too
+effeminate for a man. His movements, even if by chance he were aroused,
+were kept under restraint likewise by a languor and by a laziness that
+was not devoid of its own peculiar grace.
+
+If a shadow of an anxious thought arose from his spirit and passed
+across his face, his eyes would grow troubled, the wrinkles in his brow
+would deepen, a struggle of doubt or pain would seem to begin: but
+rarely indeed would this troubled thought crystallize into the form of a
+definite idea; still more rarely would it be transformed into a
+project.
+
+All anxiety would be dissipated in a sigh and settle down into apathy or
+languid dreaming.
+
+How admirably Oblómof's house costume suited his unruffled features and
+his effeminate body! He wore a dressing-gown of Persian material--a
+regular Oriental _khalát_, without the slightest suggestion of anything
+European about it, having no tassels, no velvet, no special shape. It
+was ample in size, so that he might have wrapped it twice around him.
+The sleeves, in the invariable Asiatic style, grew wider and wider from
+the wrist to the shoulder. Although this garment had lost its first
+freshness, and in places had exchanged its former natural gloss for
+another that was acquired, it still preserved the brilliancy of its
+Oriental coloring and its firmness of texture.
+
+The khalát had in Oblómof's eyes a multitude of precious properties: it
+was soft and supple; the body was not sensible of its weight; like an
+obedient slave, it accommodated itself to every slightest motion.
+
+Oblómof while at home always went without cravat and without waistcoat,
+for the simple reason that he liked simplicity and comfort. The slippers
+which he wore were long, soft, and wide; when without looking he put
+down one foot from the bed to the floor it naturally fell into one of
+them.
+
+Oblómof's remaining in bed was not obligatory upon him, as in the case
+of a sick man or of one who was anxious to sleep; nor was it accidental,
+as in the case of one who was weary; nor was it for mere pleasure, as a
+sluggard would have chosen: it was the normal condition of things with
+him. When he was at home--and he was almost always at home--he
+invariably lay in bed and invariably in the room where we have just
+found him: a room which served him for sleeping-room, library, and
+parlor. He had three other rooms, but he rarely glanced into them; in
+the morning, perhaps, but even then not every day, but only when his man
+came to sweep the rooms--and this, you may be sure, was not done every
+day. In these rooms the furniture was protected with covers; the
+curtains were always drawn.
+
+The room in which Oblómof was lying appeared at first glance to be
+handsomely furnished, There were a mahogany bureau, two sofas
+upholstered in silk, handsome screens embroidered with birds and fruits
+belonging to an imaginary nature. There were damask curtains, rugs, a
+number of paintings, bronzes, porcelains, and a quantity of beautiful
+bric-a-brac. But the experienced eye of a man of pure taste would have
+discovered at a single hasty glance that everything there betrayed
+merely the desire to keep up appearances in unimportant details, while
+really avoiding the burden. That had indeed been Oblómof's object when
+he furnished his room. Refined taste would not have been satisfied with
+those heavy ungraceful mahogany chairs, with those conventional
+étagères. The back of one sofa was dislocated; the veneering was broken
+off in places. The same characteristics were discoverable in the
+pictures and the vases, and all the ornaments.
+
+The proprietor himself, however, looked with such coolness and
+indifference on the decoration of his apartment that one might think he
+asked with his eyes, "Who brought you here and set you up?" As the
+result of such an indifferent manner of regarding his possessions, and
+perhaps of the still more indifferent attitude of Oblómof's servant
+Zakhár, the appearance of the room, if it were examined rather more
+critically, was amazing because of the neglect and carelessness which
+held sway there. On the walls, around the pictures, spiders' webs,
+loaded with dust, hung like festoons; the mirrors, instead of reflecting
+objects, would have served better as tablets for scribbling memoranda in
+the dust that covered them. The rugs were rags. On the sofa lay a
+forgotten towel; on the table you would generally find in the morning a
+plate or two with the remains of the evening meal, the salt-cellar,
+gnawed bones, and crusts of bread. Were it not for these plates, and the
+pipe half smoked out and flung down on the bed, or even the master
+himself stretched out on it, it might easily have been supposed that the
+room was uninhabited, it was so dusty, so lacking in all traces of human
+care. On the étagères, to be sure, lay two or three opened books or a
+crumpled newspaper; on the bureau stood an inkstand with pens; but the
+pages where the books were open were covered thick with dust and had
+turned yellow, evidently long ago thrown aside; the date of the
+newspaper was long past; and if any one had dipped a pen into the
+inkstand it would have started forth only a frightened, buzzing fly!
+
+Ílya Ílyitch was awake, contrary to his ordinary custom, very early,--at
+eight o'clock. Some anxiety was preying on his mind. Over his face
+passed alternately now apprehension, now annoyance, now vexation. It was
+evident that an internal conflict had him in its throes, and his
+intellect had not as yet come to his aid.
+
+The fact was that the evening before, Oblómof had received from the
+stárosta (steward) of his estate a letter filled with disagreeable
+tidings. It is not hard to guess what unpleasant details one's steward
+may write about: bad harvests, large arrearages, diminution in receipts,
+and the like. But although his stárosta had written his master almost
+precisely the same kind of letter the preceding year and the year before
+that, nevertheless this latest letter came upon him exactly the same, as
+a disagreeable surprise.
+
+Was it not hard?--he was facing the necessity of considering the means
+of taking some measures!
+
+However, it is proper to show how far Ílya Ílyitch was justified in
+feeling anxiety about his affairs.
+
+When he received the first letter of disagreeable tenor from his
+stárosta some years before, he was already contemplating a plan for a
+number of changes and improvements in the management of his property.
+This plan presupposed the introduction of various new economical and
+protectional measures; but the details of the scheme were still in
+embryo, and the stárosta's disagreeable letters were annually
+forthcoming, urging him to activity and really disturbing his peace of
+mind. Oblómof recognized the necessity of coming to some decision if he
+were to carry out his plan.
+
+As soon as he woke he decided to get up, bathe, and after drinking his
+tea, to think the matter over carefully, then to write his letters; and
+in short, to act in this matter as was fitting. But for half an hour he
+had been still in bed tormenting himself with this proposition; but
+finally he came to the conclusion that he would still have time to do it
+after tea, and that he might drink his tea as usual in bed with all the
+more reason, because one can think even if one is lying down!
+
+And so he did. After his tea he half sat up in bed, but did not entirely
+rise; glancing down at his slippers, he started to put his foot into one
+of them, but immediately drew it back into bed again.
+
+As the clock struck half-past nine, Ílya Ílyitch started up.
+
+"What kind of a man am I?" he said aloud in a tone of vexation.
+"Conscience only knows. It is time to do something: where there's a
+will--Zakhár!" he cried.
+
+In a room which was separated merely by a narrow corridor from Ílya
+Ílyitch's library, nothing was heard at first except the growling of the
+watch-dog; then the thump of feet springing down from somewhere. It was
+Zakhár leaping down from his couch on the stove, where he generally
+spent his time immersed in drowsiness.
+
+An elderly man appeared in the room: he was dressed in a gray coat,
+through a hole under the armpit of which emerged a part of his shirt; he
+also wore a gray waistcoat with brass buttons. His head was as bald as
+his knee, and he had enormous reddish side-whiskers already turning
+gray--so thick and bushy that they would have sufficed for three
+ordinary individuals.
+
+Zakhár would never have taken pains to change in any respect either the
+form which God had bestowed on him, or the costume which he wore in the
+country. His raiment was made for him in the style which he had brought
+with him from his village. His gray coat and waistcoat pleased him, for
+the very reason that in his semi-fashionable attire he perceived a
+feeble approach to the livery which he had worn in former times when
+waiting on his former masters (now at rest), either to church or to
+parties; but liveries in his recollections were merely representative of
+the dignity of the Oblómof family. There was nothing else to recall to
+the old man the comfortable and liberal style of life on the estate in
+the depths of the country. The older generation of masters had died, the
+family portraits were at home, and in all probability were going to rack
+and ruin in the garret; the traditions of the former life and importance
+of the house of Oblómof were all extinct, or lived only in the memories
+of a few old people still lingering in the country.
+
+Consequently, precious in the eyes of Zakhár was the gray coat: in this
+he saw a faint emblem of vanished greatness, and he found similar
+indications in some of the characteristics of his master's features and
+notions, reminding of his parentage, and in his caprices, which although
+he grumbled at them under his breath and aloud, yet he prized secretly
+as manifestations of the truly imperious will and autocratic spirit of a
+born noble. Had it not been for these whims, he would not have felt that
+his master was in any sense above him; had it not been for them, there
+would have been nothing to bring back to his mind his younger days, the
+village which they had abandoned so long ago, and the traditions about
+that ancient home,--the sole chronicles preserved by aged servants,
+nurses, and nursemaids, and handed down from mouth to mouth.
+
+The house of the Oblómofs was rich in those days, and had great
+influence in that region; but afterwards somehow or other everything had
+gone to destruction, and at last by degrees had sunk out of sight,
+overshadowed by parvenus of aristocratic pretensions. Only the few
+gray-haired retainers of the house preserved and interchanged their
+reminiscences of the past, treasuring them like holy relics.
+
+This was the reason why Zakhár so loved his gray coat. Possibly he
+valued his side-whiskers because of the fact that he saw in his
+childhood many of the older servants with this ancient and aristocratic
+adornment.
+
+Ílya Ílyitch, immersed in contemplation, took no notice of Zakhár,
+though the servant had been silently waiting for some time. At last he
+coughed.
+
+"What is it you want?" asked Ílya Ílyitch.
+
+"You called me, didn't you?"
+
+"Called you? I don't remember what I called you for," he replied,
+stretching and yawning. "Go back to your room; I will try to think what
+I wanted."
+
+Zakhár went out, and Ílya Ílyitch lay down on the bed again and began to
+cogitate upon that cursed letter.
+
+A quarter of an hour elapsed.
+
+"There now," he exclaimed, "I have dallied long enough; I must get up.
+However, I must read the stárosta's letter over again more attentively,
+and then I will get up--Zakhár!" The same noise of leaping down from the
+stove, and the same growling of the dog, only more emphatic.
+
+Zakhár made his appearance, but again Oblómof was sunk deep in
+contemplation. Zakhár stood a few moments, looking sulkily and askance
+at his master, and finally he turned to go.
+
+"Where are you going?" suddenly demanded Oblómof.
+
+"You have nothing to say to me, and why should I waste my time standing
+here?" explained Zakhár, in a hoarse gasp which served him in lieu of a
+voice, he having lost his voice, according to his own account, while out
+hunting with the dogs when he had to accompany his former master, and
+when a powerful wind seemed to blow in his throat. He half turned round,
+and stood in the middle of the room and glared at his master.
+
+"Have your legs quite given out, that you can't stand a minute? Don't
+you see I am worried? Now, please wait a moment! wasn't it lying there
+just now? Get me that letter which I received last evening from the
+stárosta. What did you do with it?"
+
+"What letter? I haven't seen any letter," replied Zakhár.
+
+"Why, you yourself took it from the postman, you scoundrel!"
+
+"It is where you put it; how should I know anything about it?" said
+Zakhár, beginning to rummage about among the papers and various things
+that littered the table.
+
+"You never know anything at all. There, look on the basket. No, see if
+it hasn't been thrown on the sofa.--There, the back of that sofa hasn't
+been mended yet. Why have you not got the carpenter to mend it? 'Twas
+you who broke it. You never think of anything!"
+
+"I didn't break it," retorted Zakhár; "it broke itself; it was not meant
+to last forever; it had to break some time."
+
+Ílya Ílyitch did not consider it necessary to refute this argument. He
+contented himself with asking:--
+
+"Have you found it yet?"
+
+"Here are some letters."
+
+"But they are not the right ones."
+
+"Well, there's nothing else," said Zakhár.
+
+"Very good, be gone," said Ílya Ílyitch impatiently. "I am going to get
+up. I will find it."
+
+Zakhár went to his room, but he had hardly laid his hand on his couch to
+climb up to it before the imperative cry was heard again:--
+
+"Zakhár! Zakhár!"
+
+"Oh, good Lord!" grumbled he, as he started to go for the third time to
+Oblómof's library. "What a torment all this is! Oh that death would come
+and take me from it!"
+
+"What do you want?" he asked, as he stood with one hand on the door, and
+glaring at Oblómof as a sign of his surliness, at such an angle that he
+had to look at his master out of the corner of his eyes; while his
+master could see only one of his enormous side-whiskers, so bushy that
+you might have expected to have two or three birds come flying out from
+them.
+
+"My handkerchief, quick! You might have known what I wanted. Don't you
+see?" remarked Ílya Ílyitch sternly.
+
+Zakhár displayed no special dissatisfaction or surprise at such an order
+or such a reproach on his master's part, regarding both, so far as he
+was concerned, as perfectly natural.
+
+"But who knows where your handkerchief is?" he grumbled, circling about
+the room and making a careful examination of every chair, although it
+could be plainly seen that there was nothing whatever on them.
+
+"It is a perfect waste of time," he remarked, opening the door into the
+drawing-room in order to see if there was any sign of it there.
+
+"Where are you going? Look for it here; I have not been in that room
+since day before yesterday. And make haste," urged Ílya Ílyitch.
+
+"Where is the handkerchief? There isn't any handkerchief," exclaimed
+Zakhár rummaging and searching in every corner.
+
+"Oh, there it is," he suddenly cried angrily, "under you. There is the
+end of it sticking out. You were lying on it, and yet you ask me to find
+your handkerchief for you!"
+
+And Zakhár, without awaiting any reply, turned and started to go out.
+Oblómof was somewhat ashamed of his own blunder. But he quickly
+discovered another pretext for putting Zakhár in the wrong.
+
+"What kind of neatness do you call this everywhere here! Look at the
+dust and dirt! Good heavens! look here, look here! See these corners!
+You don't do anything at all."
+
+"And so I don't do anything," repeated Zakhár in a tone betokening deep
+resentment. "I am growing old, I shan't live much longer! But God knows
+I use the duster for the dust, and I sweep almost every day."
+
+He pointed to the middle of the floor, and at the table where Oblómof
+had dined. "Here, look here," he went on: "it has all been swept and all
+put in order, fit for a wedding. What more is needed?"
+
+"Well then, what is this?" cried Ílya Ílyitch, interrupting him and
+calling his attention to the walls and the ceiling. "And that? and
+that?"
+
+He pointed to a yesterday's napkin which had been flung down, and to a
+plate which had been left lying on the table with a dry crust of bread
+on it.
+
+"Well, as for that," said Zakhár as he picked up the plate, "I will take
+care of it."
+
+"You will take care of it, will you? But how about the dust and the
+cobwebs on the walls?" said Oblómof, making ocular demonstration.
+
+"I put that off till Holy Week; then I clean the sacred images and sweep
+down the cobwebs."
+
+"But how about dusting the books and pictures?"
+
+"The books and pictures? Before Christmas; then Anísiya and I look over
+all the closets. But now when should we be able to do it? You are always
+at home."
+
+"I sometimes go to the theatre or go out to dine: you might--"
+
+"Do house-cleaning at night?"
+
+Oblómof looked at him reproachfully, shook his head, and uttered a sigh;
+but Zakhár gazed indifferently out of the window and also sighed deeply.
+The master seemed to be thinking, "Well, brother, you are even more of
+an Oblómof than I am myself;" while Zakhár probably said to himself,
+"Rubbish! You as my master talk strange and melancholy words, but how do
+dust and cobwebs concern you?"
+
+"Don't you know that moths breed in dust?" asked Ílya Ílyitch. "I have
+even seen bugs on the wall!"
+
+"Well, I have fleas on me sometimes," replied Zakhár in a tone of
+indifference.
+
+"Well, is that anything to boast about? That is shameful," exclaimed
+Oblómof.
+
+Zakhár's face was distorted by a smirking smile, which seemed to embrace
+even his eyebrows and his side-whiskers, which for this reason spread
+apart; and over his whole face up to his very forehead extended a ruddy
+spot.
+
+"Why, am I to blame that there are bugs on the wall?" he asked in
+innocent surprise: "was it I who invented them?"
+
+"They come from lack of cleanliness," insisted Oblómof. "What are you
+talking about?"
+
+"I am not the cause of the uncleanliness."
+
+"But you have mice in your room there running about at night--I hear
+them."
+
+"I did not invent the mice. There are all kinds of living
+creatures--mice and cats and fleas--lots of them everywhere."
+
+"How is it that other people don't have moths and bugs?"
+
+Zakhár's face expressed incredulity, or rather a calm conviction that
+this was not so.
+
+"I have plenty of them," he said without hesitation. "One can't look
+after every bug and crawl into the cracks after them."
+
+It seemed to be his thought, "What kind of a sleeping-room would that be
+that had no bugs in it?"
+
+"Now do you see to it that you sweep and brush them out of the corners;
+don't let there be one left," admonished Oblómof.
+
+"If you get it all cleaned up it will be just as bad again to-morrow,"
+remonstrated Zakhár.
+
+"It ought not to be as bad," interrupted the master.
+
+"But it is," insisted the servant; "I know all about it."
+
+"Well then, if the dust collects again, brush it out again."
+
+"What is that you say? Brush out all the corners every day?" exclaimed
+Zakhár. "What a life that would be! Better were it that God should take
+my soul!"
+
+"Why are other people's houses clean?" urged Oblómof. "Just look at the
+piano-tuner's rooms: see how neat they look, and only one maid--"
+
+"Oh, these Germans!" exclaimed Zakhár suddenly interrupting. "Where do
+they make any litter? Look at the way they live! Every family gnaws a
+whole week on a single bone. The coat goes from the father's back to the
+son's, and back from the son's to the father's. The wives and daughters
+wear little short skirts, and when they walk they all lift up their legs
+like ducks--where do they get any dirt? They don't do as we do--leave a
+whole heap of soiled clothes in the closet for a year at a time, or fill
+up the corners with bread crusts for the winter. Their crusts are never
+flung down at random: they make zweiback out of them, and eat them when
+they drink their beer!"
+
+Zakhár expressed his disgust at such a penurious way of living by
+spitting through his teeth.
+
+"Say nothing more," expostulated Ílya Ílyitch. "Do better work with your
+house-cleaning."
+
+"One time I would have cleaned up, but you yourself would not allow it,"
+said Zakhár.
+
+"That is all done with! Don't you see I have entirely changed?"
+
+"Of course you have; but still you stay at home all the time: how can
+one begin to clean up when you are right here? If you will stay out of
+the house for a whole day, then I will have a general clearing-up."
+
+"What an idea! Get out of here. You had better go to your own room."
+
+"All right!" persisted Zakhár; "but I tell you, the moment you go out,
+Anísiya and I will clear the whole place up. And we two would finish
+with it in short metre; then you will want some women to wash
+everything."
+
+"Oh, what schemes you invent! Women! away with you!" cried Ílya Ílyitch.
+
+He was by this time disgusted with himself for having led Zakhár into
+this conversation. He had quite forgotten that the attainment of this
+delicate object was at the expense of considerable confusion. Oblómof
+would have liked a state of perfect cleanliness, but he would require
+that it should be brought about in some imperceptible manner, as it were
+of itself; but Zakhár always induced a discussion as soon as he was
+asked to have any sweeping done, or the floors washed, and the like. In
+such a contingency he was sure to point out the necessity of a terrible
+disturbance in the house, knowing very well that the mere suggestion of
+such a thing would fill his master with horror.
+
+Zakhár went away, and Oblómof relapsed into cogitation. After some
+minutes the half-hour struck again.
+
+"What time is it?" exclaimed Ílya Ílyitch with a dull sense of alarm.
+"Almost eleven o'clock! Can it be that I am not up yet nor had my bath?
+Zakhár! Zakhár!"
+
+"Oh, good God! what is it now?" was heard from the ante-room, and then
+the well-known thump of feet.
+
+"Is my bath ready?" asked Oblómof.
+
+"Ready? yes, long ago," replied Zakhár. "Why did you not get up?"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me it was ready? I should have got up long ago if
+you had. Go on; I will follow you immediately. I have some business to
+do; I want to write."
+
+Zakhár went out, but in the course of a few minutes he returned with a
+greasy copy-book all scribbled over, and some scraps of paper.
+
+"Here, if you want to write--and by the way, be kind enough to verify
+these accounts: we need the money to pay them."
+
+"What accounts? what money?" demanded Ílya Ílyitch with a show of
+temper.
+
+"From the butcher, from the grocer, from the laundress, from the baker;
+they all are clamoring for money."
+
+"Nothing but bother about money," growled Ílya Ílyitch. "But why didn't
+you give them to me one at a time instead of all at once?"
+
+"You see you always kept putting me off: 'To-morrow,' always
+'To-morrow.'"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't we put them off till to-morrow now?"
+
+"No! they are dunning you; they won't give any longer credit.
+To-morrow's the first of the month."
+
+"Akh!" cried Oblómof in vexation, "new bother! Well, why are you
+standing there? Put them on the table. I will get up immediately, take
+my bath, and look them over," said Ílya Ílyitch. "Is it all ready for my
+bath?"
+
+"What do you mean--'ready'?" said Zakhár.
+
+"Well, now--"
+
+With a groan he started to make the preliminary movement of getting up.
+
+"I forgot to tell you," began Zakhár, "while you were still asleep the
+manager sent word by the dvórnik that it was imperatively necessary that
+you vacate the apartment: it is wanted."
+
+"Well, what of that? If the apartment is wanted of course we will move
+out. Why do you bother me with it? This is the third time you have
+spoken to me about it."
+
+"They bother me about it also."
+
+"Tell them that we will move out."
+
+"He says, 'For a month you have been promising,' says he, 'and still you
+don't move out,' says he: 'we'll report the matter to the police.'"
+
+"Let him report," cried Oblómof resolutely: "we will move out as soon as
+it is a little warmer, in the course of three weeks."
+
+"Three weeks, indeed! The manager says that the workmen are coming in a
+fortnight: everything is to be torn out. 'Move,' says he, 'either
+to-morrow or day after to-morrow.'"
+
+"Eh--eh--eh--that's too short notice: to-morrow? See here, what next?
+How would this minute suit? But don't you dare speak a word to me about
+apartments. I have already told you that once, and here you are again.
+Do you hear?"
+
+"But what shall I do?" demanded Zakhár.
+
+"What shall you do? Now how is he going to get rid of me?" replied Ílya
+Ílyitch. "He makes me responsible! How does it concern me? Don't you
+trouble me any further, but make any arrangements you please, only so
+that we don't have to move yet. Can't you do your best for your master?"
+
+"But Ílya Ílyitch, little father [bátiushka], what arrangements shall I
+make?" began Zakhár in a hoarse whisper. "The house is not mine; how can
+we help being driven out of the place if they resort to force? If only
+the house were mine, then I would with the greatest pleasure--"
+
+"There must be some way of bringing him around: tell him we have lived
+here so long; tell him we'll surely pay him."
+
+"I have," said Zakhár.
+
+"Well, what did he say?"
+
+"What did he say? He repeated his everlasting 'Move out,' says he; 'we
+want to make repairs on the apartment.' He wants to do over this large
+apartment and the doctor's for the wedding of the owner's son."
+
+"Oh, my good Lord!" exclaimed Oblómof in despair; "what asses they are
+to get married!"
+
+He turned over on his back.
+
+"You had better write to the owner, sir," said Zakhár. "Then perhaps he
+would not drive us out, but would give us a renewal of the lease."
+
+Zakhár as he said this made a gesture with his right hand.
+
+"Very well, then; as soon as I get up I will write him. You go to your
+room and I will think it over. You need not do anything about this," he
+added; "I myself shall have to work at all this miserable business
+myself."
+
+Zakhár left the room, and Oblómof began to ponder.
+
+But he was in a quandary which to think about,--his stárosta's letter,
+or the removal to new lodgings, or should he undertake to make out his
+accounts? He was soon swallowed up in the flood of material cares and
+troubles, and there he still lay turning from side to side. Every once
+in a while would be heard his broken exclamation, "Akh, my God! life
+touches everything, reaches everywhere!"
+
+No one knows how long he would have lain there a prey to this
+uncertainty, had not the bell rung in the ante-room.
+
+"There is some one come already!" exclaimed Oblómof, wrapping himself up
+in his khalát, "and here I am not up yet; what a shame! Who can it be so
+early?"
+
+And still lying on his bed, he gazed curiously at the door.
+
+
+
+
+THE BROTHERS DE GONCOURT
+
+EDMOND (1822-1896) JULES (1830-1870)
+
+[Illustration: EDMOND DE GONCOURT]
+
+
+Edmond and Jules Huot De Goncourt, French writers who became famous
+alike for the perfectness of their collaboration, the originality of
+their methods, and the finish of their style, were born, the first in
+Nancy in 1822, the other in Paris in 1830. Until the death of Jules in
+1870 they wrote nothing for the public that did not bear both their
+names; and so entirely identical were their tastes and judgment that it
+is impossible to say of a single sentence they composed that it was the
+sole product of one or the other. "Charming writers," Victor Hugo called
+them; "in unison a powerful writer, two minds from which springs a
+single jet of talent." Born of a noble family of moderate wealth, they
+were educated as became their station in life. Both had an early leaning
+toward the arts; but Edmond, in deference to the wishes of his family,
+took a government appointment and held the office till the death of his
+mother, when he was twenty-six years of age. Their father had died while
+they were boys.
+
+Drawn together by their common bereavement and the death-bed injunction
+of their parent that Edmond should be the careful guardian of his
+younger brother, whose health had always been delicate, the young men
+then began a companionship which was broken only by death. They set out
+to make themselves acquainted with southern Europe, and at the same time
+to escape the political turmoils of Paris; and extended their travels
+into Africa, which country they found so congenial that in the first
+ardor of their enthusiasm they determined to settle there. Business
+arrangements, however, soon recalled them to Paris, where ties of
+friendship and other agreeable associations bound them fast to their
+native soil. They took up their residence in the metropolis, where they
+lived until a short time before the death of Jules, when, to be free
+from the roar of the city, they purchased a house in one of the suburbs.
+Their intellectual development may be traced through their Journal and
+letters to intimate friends, published by the surviving brother. From
+these it appears that most of their leisure hours during their travels
+were taken up with painting and drawing. Jules had attempted some
+dramatic compositions while at college, and Edmond had been strongly
+drawn to literature by the conversation of an aunt, of whom he saw much
+before his mother's death. It was while engaged with their brushes in
+1850 that it occurred to the brothers to take up writing as a regular
+vocation; and thus was begun their remarkable literary partnership.
+
+Their first essay was a drama. It was rejected; whereupon, nothing
+daunted, they wrote a novel. It was entitled '18--,' and it is
+interesting to observe that here, at the very outset of their career,
+they seem to have had in mind the keynote of the chord on which they
+ever afterwards played: the eighteenth century was the chief source of
+their inspiration, and it was their life's endeavor to explore it and
+reproduce it for their contemporaries with painstaking fidelity. The
+novel engaged their serious and earnest attention, and when it was given
+to the publisher they watched for its appearance with painful anxiety.
+Unfortunately it was announced for the very day on which occurred the
+_Coup d'État_. The book came out when Paris was in an uproar; and though
+Jules Janin, one of the most influential critics of the day,
+unexpectedly exploited it at great length in the Journal des Débats, its
+circulation in that first edition was not more than sixty copies, most
+of which were distributed gratuitously.
+
+The blow was a hard one, but the brothers were not thus to be silenced,
+nor by the subsequent failure of other dramatic ventures and an effort
+to found a newspaper. They had been little more than imitators. They now
+entered the field they soon made their own. The writers of their day
+were for the most part classicists; a few before Victor Hugo were
+romanticists. The De Goncourts stood for the modern, what they could see
+and touch. In this way they became realists. What their own senses could
+not apprehend they at once rejected; all they saw they deemed worthy to
+be reproduced. They lived in a period of reconstruction after the
+devastation of the revolution. The refinement and elegance of the
+society of the later Bourbon monarchy, still within view, they yearned
+for and sought to restore. A series of monographs dealing with the art
+and the stage of these days, which appeared in 1851-2, won for them the
+first real recognition they enjoyed. These were followed by various
+critical essays on the same subjects, contributed to newspapers and
+periodicals, and a novel, 'La Lorette,' which had a large sale and
+marked the beginning of their success from a financial point of view.
+"This makes us realize," they wrote in their Journal, "that one can
+actually sell a book."
+
+Their reputation as men of letters was established by the publication in
+1854-5 of 'Histoire de la Société Pendant la Revolution' and the same
+'Pendant le Directoire' the aim of which, they said, was "to paint in
+vivid, simple colors the France of 1789 to 1800." This object they
+accomplished, so far as it concerned the society of which they
+themselves were descendants; but the reactionary spirit in them was too
+strong for an impartial view of the struggle, and their lack of true
+philosophic spirit and broad human sympathy led them to make a picture
+that, interesting as it is, is sadly distorted. Their vivid colors are
+lavished mainly on the outrages of the rioters and the sufferings of the
+aristocrats. But for wealth of detail, the result of tireless research,
+the history is of value as a record of the manners and customs of the
+fashionable set of the period. Of the same sort were their other
+semi-historical works: 'Portraits Intimes du XVIIIième Siècle,' separate
+sketches of about a hundred more or less well-known figures of the age;
+'L'Histoire de Marie Antoinette,' and 'La Femme au XVIIIième Siècle,' in
+which the gossip and anecdote of former generations are told again
+almost as graphically as are those which the authors relate of their own
+circle in their memoirs. Their most important contribution to literature
+was their 'L'Art au XVIIIième Siècle,' monographs gathered and published
+in seventeen volumes, and representing a dozen years' labor. This was
+indeed a labor of love, and it was not in vain; for it was these
+appreciative studies more than anything else that turned public
+attention to the almost forgotten delicacy of the school of painters
+headed by Watteau, Fragonard, Latour, Boucher, Debricourt, and Greuze,
+whose influence has ever since been manifested on the side of sound
+taste and sanity in French art.
+
+A volume entitled 'Idées et Sensations,' and their Journal and letters,
+complete the list of the more important of their works outside the field
+of fiction. The Journal will always be valuable as an almost complete
+document of the literary history of France in their time, made up as it
+is of impressions of and from the most important writers of the day,
+with whom they were on terms of intimate friendship, including Flaubert,
+Gautier, Renan, Sainte-Beuve, Hugo, Saint-Victor, Michelet, Zola, and
+George Sand. In fiction the De Goncourts were less prolific, but it is
+to their novels mainly that they owe their reputation for individuality,
+and as true "path-breakers" in literature. They have been called the
+initiators of modern French realism. Their friend Flaubert perhaps
+better deserves the title. Their determination to see for themselves all
+that could be seen, the result of which gave real worth to their
+historical work, even where their prejudice robbed it of weight, was
+what put the stamp of character upon their novels. How much importance
+they attached to correct and comprehensive observation may be gathered
+from their remark, "The art of learning how to see demands the longest
+apprenticeship of all the arts." They took life as they found it,
+examined it on every side,--rarely going far under the surface,--and
+then sought to reproduce it on their pages as the artist would put it on
+canvas. Capable of terseness, of suggestiveness, quick to note and
+communicate the vital spark, they were yet rarely content with it alone.
+Every minute particle of the body it vivified, they insisted on adding
+to their picture. Nothing was to be taken for granted; as nothing was
+accepted by them at second hand, so nothing was left to the imagination
+of the reader until their comprehensive view was his. It was in this way
+that they were realists. They did not seek out and expose to public view
+the grossness and unpleasantness of life. Their own preference was for
+the beautiful, and in their own lives they indulged their refined
+tastes. But they looked squarely at the world about them, the ugly with
+the beautiful, the impure with the pure, and they did not hesitate to
+describe one almost as faithfully as the other.
+
+Curiously, the discrimination against the masses and the bias that mar
+their history do not appear in their fiction. "They began writing
+history which was nothing but romance," says one of their critics, "and
+later wrote romance which in reality is history." Indeed, their novels
+are little more than sketches of what occurred around them. 'Madame
+Gervaisais' is a character study of the aunt of strong literary
+predilections who influenced Edmond; 'Germinie Lacerteux' is the
+biography of their servant, at whose death, after long and faithful
+service, they discovered that she had led a life of singular duplicity;
+'Soeur Philomène' is a terribly true glimpse of hospital life, and
+'Manette Salomon,' with its half-human monkey drawn from the life, is
+transferred without change from the Parisian studios under the Empire.
+'Renee Mauperin' comes nearest to the model of an ordinary novel; but no
+one can read of the innocent tomboy girl struck down with fatal remorse
+at the consequences of her own natural action, on learning of her
+brother's dishonor, without feeling that this picture too was drawn from
+the life. Several of their stories were dramatized, but with scant
+success; and a play which they wrote, 'Henriette Maréchal' and had
+produced at the Comédie Française through the influence of Princess
+Mathilde, their constant friend and patroness, was almost howled
+down,--chiefly however for political reasons.
+
+After the death of Jules de Goncourt, his brother wrote several books of
+the same character as those which they produced in union, the best known
+of which are 'La Fille Élisa,' and 'Chérie,' a study of a girl, said to
+have been inspired by the Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff. The best
+critics in France, notably Saïnte-Beuve, have given the brothers
+Goncourt a very high place in literature and conceded their originality.
+English reviewers have been less ready to exalt them, mainly on account
+of the offensive part of their realism. They have objected also to their
+superficiality as historians, and to their sympathy with the sentimental
+admirers of such types as Marie Antoinette; but they too have been ready
+to praise the brothers as leaders of a new fashion, and especially for
+their devotion to style. In this respect the Goncourts have few rivals
+in French literature. Balzac himself was not more finical in the choice
+of words, or more unsparing of his time and energy in writing and
+re-writing until his exact meaning, no more or less, had been expressed;
+and they covered up the marks of their toil better than he. In a letter
+to Zola, Edmond de Goncourt said:--"My own idea is that my brother died
+of work, and above all from the desire to elaborate the artistic form,
+the chiseled phrase, the workmanship of style." He himself spent a long
+life at this fine artistry, and died in Paris in July, 1896.
+
+
+
+TWO FAMOUS MEN
+
+From the Journal of the De Goncourts
+
+
+March 3D [1862].--We took a walk and went off to find Théophile
+Gautier.... The street in which he lives is composed of the most squalid
+countrified buildings, of court-yards swarming with poultry, fruit shops
+whose doors are ornamented with little brooms of black feathers: just
+such a suburban street as Hervier might have painted.... We pushed open
+the door of a house, and found ourselves in the presence of the lord of
+epithet. The furniture was of gilded wood, covered with red damask,
+after the heavy Venetian style; there were fine old pictures of the
+Italian school; above the chimney a mirror innocent of quicksilver, on
+which were scraped colored arabesques and various Persian
+characters,--such a picture of meagre sumptuousness and faded splendor
+as one would find in the rooms of a retired actress, who had come in for
+some pictures through the bankruptcy of an Italian manager.
+
+When we asked him if we were disturbing him, he answered: "Not at all. I
+never work at home. I get through my 'copy' at the printing-office. They
+set up the type as I write. The smell of the printers' ink is a sure
+stimulant to work, for one feels the 'copy' must be handed in. I could
+write only a novel in this way now; unless I saw ten lines printed I
+could not get on to the next ten. The proof-sheet serves as a test to
+one's work. That which is already done becomes impersonal, but the
+actual 'copy' is part of yourself; it hangs like filaments from the root
+of your literary life, and has not yet been torn away. I have always
+been preparing corners where I should do my work, but when installed
+there I found I could do nothing. I must be in the midst of things, and
+can work only when a racket is going on about me; whereas, when I shut
+myself up for work the solitude tells upon me and makes me sad."
+
+From there Gautier got on the subject of the 'Queen of Sheba.' We
+admitted our infirmity, our physical incapacity of taking in musical
+sound; and indeed, a military band is the highest musical enjoyment of
+which we are capable. Whereupon Gautier said, "Well, I'm delighted to
+hear that: I am just like you; I prefer silence to music. I do know bad
+music from good, because part of my life was spent with a singer, but
+both are quite indifferent to me. Still it is curious that all the
+literary men of our day feel the same about music. Balzac abhorred it,
+Hugo cannot endure it, Lamartine has a horror of it. There are only a
+few painters who have a taste for it."
+
+Then Gautier fell to complaining of the times. "Perhaps I am getting an
+old man, but I begin to feel as if there were no more air to breathe.
+What is the use of wings if there is no air in which one can soar? I no
+longer feel as if I belonged to the present generation. Yes, 1830 was a
+glorious epoch, but I was too young by two or three years; I was not
+carried away by the current; I was not ready for it. I ought to have
+produced a very different sort of work."
+
+There was then some talk of Flaubert, of his literary methods, of his
+indefatigable patience, and of the seven years he devoted to a work of
+four hundred pages. "Just listen," observed Gautier, "to what Flaubert
+said to me the other day: 'It is finished. I have only ten more pages to
+write; but the ends of my sentences are all in my head.' So that he
+already hears in anticipation the music of the last words of his
+sentences before the sentences themselves have been written. Was it not
+a quaint expression to use? I believe he has devised a sort of literary
+rhythm. For instance, a phrase which begins in slow measure must not
+finish with a quick pace, unless some special effect is to be produced.
+Sometimes the rhythm is only apparent to himself, and escapes our
+notice. A story is not written for the purpose of being read aloud: yet
+he shouts his to himself as he writes them. These shouts present to his
+own ears harmonies, but his readers seem unaware of them."
+
+Gautier's daughters have a charm of their own, a species of Oriental
+languor, deep dreamy eyes, veiled by heavy eyelids, and a regularity in
+their gestures and movements which they inherit from their father; but
+this regularity is tempered in them by womanly grace. There is a charm
+about them which is not all French; nevertheless there is a French
+element about it, their little tomboyish tricks and expressions, their
+habit of pouting, the shrugging of their shoulders, the irony which
+escapes through the thin veil of childishness intended to conceal it.
+All these points distinguish them from ordinary society girls, and make
+clear a strong individuality of character which renders them fearless in
+expressing their likings and antipathies. They display liberty of
+speech, and have often the manner of a woman whose face is hidden by a
+mask; and yet one finds here simplicity, candor, and a charming absence
+of reserve, utterly unknown to the ordinary young girl.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+November 23D [1863].--We have been to thank Michelet for the flattering
+lines he wrote about us.
+
+He lives in the Rue de l'Ouest, at the end of the Jardin du Luxembourg,
+in a large house which might almost be workmen's dwellings. His flat is
+on the third floor. A maid opened the door and announced us. We
+penetrated into a small study.
+
+The wife of the historian has a young, serious face; she was seated on a
+chair beside the desk on which the lamp was placed, with her back to the
+window. Michelet sat on a couch of green velvet, and was banked up by
+cushions.
+
+His attitude reminded us of his historical work: the lower portions of
+his body were in full sight, whilst the upper were half concealed; the
+face was a mere shadow surrounded with snowy white locks; from this
+shadowy mass emerged a professorial, sonorous, singsong voice,
+consciously important, and in which the ascending and descending scale
+produced a continuous cooing sound.
+
+He spoke to us in a most appreciative manner of our study of Watteau,
+and then passed on to the interesting study which might be written on
+French furniture.
+
+"You gentlemen, who are observers of human nature," he cried suddenly,
+"there is a history you should write,--the history of the lady's-maid. I
+do not speak of Madame de Maintenon; but you have Mademoiselle de
+Launai, the Duchesse de Grammont's Julie, who exercised on her mistress
+so great an influence, especially in the Corsican affair. Madame Du
+Deffand said sometimes that there were only two people sincerely
+attached to her, D'Alembert and her maid. Oh! domesticity has played a
+great part in history, though men-servants have been of comparative
+unimportance....
+
+"I was once going through England, traveling from York to Halifax. There
+were pavements in the country lanes, with the grass growing on each side
+as carefully kept as the pavements themselves; close by, sheep were
+grazing, and the whole scene was lit up by gas. A singular sight!"
+
+Then after a short pause:--"Have you noticed that the physiognomy of the
+great men of to-day is so rarely in keeping with their intellect? Look
+at their portraits, their photographs: there are no longer any good
+portraits. Remarkable people no longer possess in their faces anything
+which distinguishes them from ordinary folk. Balzac had nothing
+characteristic. Would you recognize Lamartine if you saw him? There is
+nothing in the shape of his head, or in his lustreless eyes, nothing but
+a certain elegance which age has not affected. The fact is that in these
+days there is too great an accumulation of people and things, much more
+so than in former times. We assimilate too much from other people, and
+this being the case, we lose even the individuality of our features; we
+present the portrait of a collective set of people rather than of
+ourselves."
+
+We rose to take our leave; he accompanied us to the door; then by the
+light of the lamp he carried in his hand we saw, for a second at least,
+this marvelous historian of dreams, the great somnambulist of the past
+and brilliant talker of the present.
+
+
+
+THE SUICIDE
+
+From 'Sister Philomène'
+
+
+The next morning the whole hospital knew that Barnier, having scratched
+his hand on the previous day while dissecting a body in a state of
+purulent infection, was dying in terrible agonies.
+
+When at four o'clock Malivoire, quitting for a few moments the bedside
+of his friend, came to replace him in the service, the Sister went up to
+him. She followed from bed to bed, dogging his steps, without however
+accosting him, without speaking, watching him intently with her eyes
+fixed on his. As he was leaving the ward:--
+
+"Well?" she asked, in the brief tone with which women stop the doctor on
+his last visit at the threshold of the room.
+
+"No hope," said Malivoire, with a gesture of despair; "there is nothing
+to be done. It began at his right ankle, went up the leg and thigh, and
+has attacked all the articulations. Such agonies, poor fellow! It will
+be a mercy when it's over."
+
+"Will he be dead before night?" asked the Sister calmly.
+
+"Oh no! He will live through the night. It is the same case as that of
+Raguideau three years ago; and Raguideau lasted forty-eight hours."
+
+That evening, at ten o'clock, Sister Philomène might be seen entering
+the church of Notre Dame des Victoires.
+
+The lamps were being lowered, the lighted tapers were being put out one
+by one with a long-handled extinguisher. The priest had just left the
+vestry.
+
+The Sister inquired where he lived, and was told that his house was a
+couple of steps from the church, in the Rue de la Banque.
+
+The priest was just going into the house when she entered behind,
+pushing open the door he was closing.
+
+"Come in, Sister," he said, unfurling his wet umbrella and placing it on
+the tiled floor in the ante-room. And he turned toward her. She was on
+her knees. "What are you doing, Sister?" he said, astonished at her
+attitude. "Get up, my child. This is not a fit place. Come, get up!"
+
+"You will save him, will you not?" and Philomène caught hold of the
+priest's hands as he stretched them out to help her to rise. "Why do you
+object to my remaining on my knees?"
+
+"Come, come, my child, do not be so excited. It is God alone, remember,
+who can save. I can but pray."
+
+"Ah! you can only pray," she said in a disappointed tone. "Yes, that is
+true."
+
+And her eyes sank to the ground. After a moment's pause the priest went
+on:--
+
+"Come, Sister, sit down there. You are calmer now, are you not? Tell me,
+what is it you want?"
+
+"He is dying," said Philomène, rising as she spoke. "He will probably
+not live through the night;" and she began to cry. "It is for a young
+man of twenty-seven years of age; he has never performed any of his
+religious duties, never been near a church, never prayed to God since
+his first communion. He will refuse to listen to anything. He no longer
+knows a prayer even. He will listen neither to priest nor any one. And I
+tell you it is all over with him,--he is dying. Then I remembered your
+Confraternity of Notre Dame des Victoires, since it is devoted to those
+who do not believe. Come, you must save him!"
+
+"My daughter--"
+
+"And perhaps he is dying at this very moment. Oh! promise me you will do
+all at once, all that is in the Confraternity book; the
+prayers,--everything, in short. You will have him prayed for at once,
+won't you?"
+
+"But, my poor child, it is Friday to-day, and the Confraternity only
+meets on Thursday."
+
+"Thursday only--why? It will be too late Thursday. He will never live
+till Thursday. Come, you must save him; you have saved many another."
+
+Sister Philomène looked at the priest with wide-opened eyes, in which
+through her tears rose a glance of revolt, impatience, and command. For
+one instant in that room there was no longer a Sister standing before a
+priest, but a woman face to face with an old man.
+
+The priest resumed:--
+
+"All I can do at present for that young man, my dear daughter, is to
+apply to his benefit all the prayers and good works that are being
+carried on by the Confraternity, and I will offer them up to the Blessed
+and Immaculate Heart of Mary to obtain his conversion. I will pray for
+him to-morrow at mass, and again on Saturday and Sunday."
+
+"Oh, I am so thankful," said Philomène, who felt tears rise gently to
+her eyes as the priest spoke to her. "Now I am full of hope; he will be
+converted, he will have pity on himself. Give me your blessing for him."
+
+"But Sister, I only bless from the altar, in the pulpit, or in the
+confessional. There only am I the minister of God. Here, my Sister, here
+I am but a weak man, a miserable sinner."
+
+"That does not signify; you are always God's minister, and you cannot,
+you would not, refuse me; he is at the point of death."
+
+She fell on her knees as she spoke. The priest blessed her, and added:--
+
+"It is nearly eleven o'clock, Sister; you have nearly three miles to get
+home, all Paris to cross at this late hour."
+
+"Oh, I am not afraid," replied Philomène with a smile; "God knows why I
+am in the street. Moreover, I will tell my beads on the way. The Blessed
+Virgin will be with me."...
+
+The same evening, Barnier, rousing himself from a silence that had
+lasted the whole day, said to Malivoire, "You will write to my mother.
+You will tell her that this often happens in our profession."
+
+"But you are not yet as bad as all that, my dear fellow," replied
+Malivoire, bending over the bed. "I am sure I shall save you."
+
+"No, I chose my man too well for that. How well I took you in, my poor
+Malivoire!" and he smiled almost. "You understand, I could not kill
+myself. I did not wish to be the death of my old mother. But an
+accident--that settles everything. You will take all my books, do you
+hear? and my case of instruments also. I wish you to have all. You
+wonder why I have killed myself, don't you? Come nearer. It is on
+account of that woman. I never loved but her in all my life. They did
+not give her enough chloroform; I told them so. Ah! if you had heard her
+scream when she awoke--before it was over! That scream still re-echoes
+in my ears! However," he continued, after a nervous spasm, "if I had to
+begin again, I would choose some other way of dying, some way in which I
+should not suffer so much. Then, you know, she died, and I fancied I had
+killed her. She is ever before me,... covered with blood.... And then I
+took to drinking. I drank because I love her still.... That's all!"
+
+Barnier relapsed into silence. After a long pause, he again spoke, and
+said to Malivoire:--
+
+"You will tell my mother to take care of the little lad."
+
+After another pause, the following words escaped him:--
+
+"The Sister would have said a prayer."
+
+Shortly after, he asked:--
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Eleven."
+
+"Time is not up yet;... I have still some hours to live.... I shall last
+till to-morrow."
+
+A little later he again inquired the time, and crossing his hands on his
+breast, in a faint voice he called Malivoire and tried to speak to him.
+But Malivoire could not catch the words he muttered.
+
+Then the death-rattle began, and lasted till morn....
+
+A candle lighted up the room.
+
+It burnt slowly, it lighted up the four white walls on which the coarse
+ochre paint of the door and of the two cupboards cut a sharp
+contrast....
+
+On the iron bedstead with its dimity curtains, a sheet lay thrown over a
+motionless body, molding the form as wet linen might do, indicating with
+the inflexibility of an immutable line the rigidity, from the tip of the
+toes to the sharp outline of the face, of what it covered.
+
+Near a white wooden table Malivoire, seated in a large wicker arm-chair,
+watched and dozed, half slumbering and yet not quite asleep.
+
+In the silence of the room nothing could be heard but the ticking of the
+dead man's watch.
+
+From behind the door something seemed gently to move and advance, the
+key turned in the lock, and Sister Philomène stood beside the bed.
+Without looking at Malivoire, without seeing him, she knelt down and
+prayed in the attitude of a kneeling marble statue; and the folds of her
+gown were as motionless as the sheet that covered the dead man.
+
+At the end of a quarter of an hour she rose, walked away without once
+looking round, and disappeared.
+
+The next day, awaking at the hollow sound of the coffin knocking against
+the narrow stairs, Malivoire vaguely recalled the night's apparition,
+and wondered if he had dreamed it; and going mechanically up to the
+table by the bedside, he sought for the lock of hair he had cut off for
+Barnier's mother: the lock of hair had vanished.
+
+
+
+THE AWAKENING
+
+From 'Renée Mauperin'
+
+
+A little stage had been erected at the end of the Mauperins'
+drawing-room. The footlights were hidden behind a screen of foliage and
+flowering shrubs. Renée, with the help of her drawing-master, had
+painted the curtain, which represented a view on the banks of the Seine.
+On either side of the stage hung a bill, on which were these words,
+written by hand:--
+
+    LA BRICHE THEATRE
+    THIS EVENING,
+
+    'THE CAPRICE,'
+
+    To conclude with
+    'HARLEQUIN, A BIGAMIST.'
+
+And then followed the names of the actors.
+
+On all the chairs in the house, which had been seized and arranged in
+rows before the stage, women in low gowns were squeezed together, mixing
+their skirts, their lace, the sparkle of their diamonds, and the
+whiteness of their shoulders. The folding doors of the drawing-room had
+been taken down, and showed, in the little drawing-room which led to the
+dining-room, a crowd of men in white neckties, standing on tiptoe.
+
+The curtain rose upon 'The Caprice.' Renée played with much spirit the
+part of Madame de Léry. Henry, as the husband, revealed one of those
+real theatrical talents which are often found in cold young men and in
+grave men of the world. Naomi herself--carried away by Henry's acting,
+carefully prompted by Denoisel from behind the scenes, a little
+intoxicated by her audience--played her little part of a neglected wife
+very tolerably. This was a great relief to Madame Bourjot. Seated in the
+front row, she had followed her daughter with anxiety. Her pride dreaded
+a failure. The curtain fell, the applause burst out, and all the company
+were called for. Her daughter had not been ridiculous; she was happy in
+this great success, and she composedly gave herself up to the speeches,
+opinions, congratulations, which, as in all representations of private
+theatricals, followed the applause and continued in murmurs. Amidst all
+that she thus vaguely heard, one sentence, pronounced close by her,
+reached her ears clear and distinct above the buzz of general
+conversation:--"Yes, it is his sister, I know; but I think that for the
+part he is not sufficiently in love with her, and really too much in
+love with his wife: did you notice it?" And the speaker, feeling that
+she was being overheard by Madame Bourjot, leaned over and whispered in
+her neighbor's ear. Madame Bourjot became serious.
+
+After a pause the curtain went up again, and Henry Mauperin appeared as
+Pierrot or Harlequin, not in the traditional sack of white calico and
+black cap, but as an Italian harlequin, with a white three-cornered hat,
+and dressed entirely in white satin from head to foot. A shiver of
+interest ran through the women, proving that the costume and the man
+were both charming; and the folly began.
+
+It was the mad story of Pierrot, married to one woman and wishing to
+marry another; a farce intermingled with passion, which had been
+unearthed by a playwright, with the help of a poet, from a collection of
+old comic plays. Renée this time acted the part of the neglected woman,
+who in various disguises interfered between her husband and his gallant
+adventures, and Naomi that of the woman he loved. Henry, in his scenes
+of love with the latter, carried all before him. He played with youth,
+with brilliancy, with excitement. In the scene in which he avows his
+love, his voice was full of the passionate cry of a declaration which
+overflows and swamps everything. True, he had to act with the prettiest
+Columbine in the world: Naomi looked delicious that evening in her
+bridal costume of Louis XVI., copied exactly from the 'Bride's Minuet,'
+a print by Debucourt, which Barousse had lent for the purpose.
+
+A sort of enchantment filled the whole room, and reached Madame Bourjot;
+a sort of sympathetic complicity with the actors seemed to encourage the
+pretty couple to love one another. The piece went on. Now and again
+Henry's eyes seemed to look for those of Madame Bourjot, over the
+footlights. Meanwhile, Renée appeared disguised as the village bailiff;
+it only remained to sign the contract; Pierrot, taking the hand of the
+woman he loved, began to tell her of all the happiness he was going to
+have with her.
+
+The woman who sat next to Madame Bourjot felt her lean somewhat on her
+shoulder. Henry finished his speech, the piece disentangled itself and
+came to an end. All at once Madame Bourjot's neighbor saw something
+glide down her arm; it was Madame Bourjot, who had just fainted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, do pray go indoors," said Madame Bourjot to the people who were
+standing around her. She had been carried into the garden. "It is past
+now; it is really nothing; it was only the heat." She was quite pale,
+but she smiled. "I only want a little air. Let M. Henry only stay with
+me."
+
+The audience retired. Scarcely had the sound of feet died away,
+when--"You love her!" said Madame Bourjot, seizing Henry's arm as though
+she were taking him prisoner with her feverish hands; "you love her!"
+
+"Madame--" said Henry.
+
+"Hold your tongue! you lie!" And she threw his arm from her. Henry
+bowed.--"I know all. I have seen all. But look at me!" and with her eyes
+she closely scanned his face. Henry stood before her, his head
+bent.--"At least speak to me! You can speak, at any rate! Ah, I see
+it,--you can only act in her company!"
+
+"I have nothing to say to you, Laura," said Henry in his softest and
+clearest voice. Madame Bourjot started at this name of Laura as though
+he had touched her. "I have struggled for a year, madame," began Henry;
+"I have no excuse to make. But my heart is fast. We knew each other as
+children. The charm has grown day by day. I am very unhappy, madame, at
+having to acknowledge the truth to you. I love your daughter, that is
+true."
+
+"But have you ever spoken to her? I blush for her when there are people
+there! Have you ever looked at her? Do you think her pretty? What
+possesses you men? Come! I am better-looking than she is! You men are
+fools. And besides, my friend, I have spoiled you. Go to her and ask her
+to caress your pride, to tickle your vanity, to flatter and to serve
+your ambitions,--for you are ambitious: I know you! Ah, M. Mauperin, one
+can only find that once in a lifetime! And it is only women of my age,
+old women like me,--do you hear me?--who love the future of the people
+whom they love! You were not my lover, you were my grandchild!" And at
+this word, her voice sounded as though it came from the bottom of her
+heart. Then immediately changing her tone--"But don't be foolish! I tell
+you you don't really love my daughter; it is not true: she is rich!"
+
+"O madame!"
+
+"Good gracious! there are lots of people. They have been pointed out to
+me. It pays sometimes to begin with the mother and finish with the
+dower. And a million, you know, will gild a good many pills."
+
+"Speak lower, I implore--for your own sake: some one has just opened a
+window."
+
+"Calmness is very fine, M. Mauperin, very fine, very fine," repeated
+Madame Bourjot. And her low, hissing voice seemed to stifle her.
+
+Clouds were scudding across the sky, and passed over the moon looking
+like huge bats' wings. Madame Bourjot gazed fixedly into the darkness,
+straight in front of her. Her elbows resting on her knees, her weight
+thrown on to her heels, she was beating with the points of her satin
+shoes the gravel of the path. After a few minutes she sat upright,
+stretched out her arms two or three times wildly and as though but half
+awake; then, hastily and with jerks, she pushed her hand down between
+her gown and her waistband, pressing her hand against the ribbon as
+though she would break it. Then she rose and began to walk. Henry
+followed her.
+
+"I intend, sir, that we shall never see each other again," she said to
+him, without turning round.
+
+As they passed near the basin, she handed him her handkerchief:--
+
+"Wet that for me."
+
+Henry put one knee on the margin and gave her back the lace, which he
+had moistened. She laid it on her forehead and on her eyes. "Now let us
+go in," she said; "give me your arm."
+
+"Oh, dear madame, what courage!" said Madame Mauperin, going to meet
+Madame Bourjot as she entered; "but it is unwise of you. Let me order
+your carriage."
+
+"On no account," answered Madame Bourjot hastily: "I thank you. I
+promised that I would sing for you, I think. I am going to sing."
+
+And Madame Bourjot advanced to the piano, graceful and valiant, with the
+heroic smile on her face wherewith the actors of society hide from the
+public the tears that they shed within themselves, and the wounds which
+are only known to their own hearts.
+
+
+
+
+EDMUND GOSSE
+
+(1849-)
+
+
+Edmund William Gosse, or Edmund Gosse, to give him the name he has of
+late years adopted, is a Londoner, the son of P.H. Gosse, an English
+zoölogist of repute. His education did not embrace the collegiate
+training, but he was brought up amid cultured surroundings, read
+largely, and when but eighteen was appointed an assistant librarian in
+the British Museum, at the age of twenty-six receiving the position of
+translator to the Board of Trade. Gosse is a good example of the
+cultivated man of letters who fitted himself thoroughly for his
+profession, though lacking the formal scholastic drill of the
+university.
+
+He began as a very young man to write for the leading English
+periodicals, contributing papers and occasional poems to the Saturday
+Review, Academy, and Cornhill Magazine, and soon gaining critical
+recognition. In 1872 and 1874 he traveled in Scandinavia and Holland,
+making literary studies which bore fruit in one of his best critical
+works. He made his literary bow when twenty-one with the volume
+'Madrigals, Songs, and Sonnets' (1870), which was well received, winning
+praise from Tennyson. His essential qualities as a verse-writer appear
+in it: elegance and care of workmanship, close study of nature, felicity
+in phrasing, and a marked tendency to draw on literary culture for
+subject and reference. Other works of poetry, 'On Viol and Flute'
+(1873), 'New Poems' (1879), 'Firdausi in Exile' (1885), 'In Russet and
+Gold' (1894), with the dramas 'King Erik' (1876) and 'The Unknown Lover'
+(1878), show an increasingly firm technique and a broadening of outlook,
+with some loss of the happy singing quality which characterized the
+first volume. Gosse as a poet may be described as a lyrist with
+attractive descriptive powers. Together with his fellow poets Lang and
+Dobson, he revived in English verse the old French metrical forms, such
+as the roundel, triolet, and ballade, and he has been very receptive to
+the new in literary form and thought, while keeping a firm grip on the
+classic models.
+
+As an essayist, Gosse is one of the most accomplished and agreeable of
+modern English writers; he has comprehensive culture and catholic
+sympathy, and commands a picturesque style, graceful and rich without
+being florid. His 'Studies in the Literature of Northern Europe' (1879)
+introduced Ibsen and other little-known foreign writers to British
+readers.
+
+Gosse has been a thorough student of English literature prior to the
+nineteenth century, and has made a specialty of the literary history of
+the eighteenth century, his series of books in this field
+including--'Seventeenth-Century Studies' (1883), 'From Shakespeare to
+Pope' (1885), 'The Literature of the Eighteenth Century' (1889), 'The
+Jacobean Poets' (1894), to which may be added the volume of
+contemporaneous studies 'Critical Kit-Kats' (1896). Some of these books
+are based on the lectures delivered by Gosse as Clark Lecturer at
+Trinity College, Cambridge. He has also written biographies of Sir
+Walter Raleigh and Congreve, and his 'Life of Thomas Gray' (1882) and
+'Works of Thomas Gray' (1884) comprise the best edition and
+setting-forth of that poet. In such labors as that of the editing of
+Heinemann's 'International Library,' his influence has been salutary in
+the popularization of the best literature of the world. His interest in
+Ibsen led him to translate, in collaboration with William Archer, the
+dramatic critic of London, the Norwegian's play 'The Master Builder.'
+
+Edmund Gosse, as editor, translator, critic, and poet, has done varied
+and excellent work. Sensitive to many literatures, and to good
+literature everywhere, he has remained stanchly English in spirit, and
+has combined scholarship with popular qualities of presentation. He has
+thus contributed not a little to the furtherance of literature in
+England.
+
+     [The poems are all taken from 'On Viol and Flute,' published
+     by Henry Holt & Co., New York.]
+
+
+
+FEBRUARY IN ROME
+
+
+  When Roman fields are red with cyclamen,
+    And in the palace gardens you may find,
+    Under great leaves and sheltering briony-bind,
+  Clusters of cream-white violets, oh then
+  The ruined city of immortal men
+    Must smile, a little to her fate resigned,
+    And through her corridors the slow warm wind
+  Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken.
+  Such soft favonian airs upon a flute,
+    Such shadowy censers burning live perfume,
+    Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb;
+  Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit,
+  Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute,
+    Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome.
+
+
+
+DESIDERIUM
+
+
+  Sit there for ever, dear, and lean
+    In marble as in fleeting flesh,
+  Above the tall gray reeds that screen
+    The river when the breeze is fresh;
+  For ever let the morning light
+  Stream down that forehead broad and white,
+  And round that cheek for my delight.
+
+  Already that flushed moment grows
+    So dark, so distant: through the ranks
+  Of scented reed the river flows,
+    Still murmuring to its willowy banks;
+  But we can never hope to share
+  Again that rapture fond and rare,
+  Unless you turn immortal there.
+
+  There is no other way to hold
+    These webs of mingled joy and pain;
+  Like gossamer their threads enfold
+    The journeying heart without a strain,--
+  Then break, and pass in cloud or dew,
+  And while the ecstatic soul goes through,
+  Are withered in the parching blue.
+
+  Hold, Time, a little while thy glass.
+    And Youth, fold up those peacock wings!
+  More rapture fills the years that pass
+    Than any hope the future brings;
+  Some for to-morrow rashly pray,
+  And some desire to hold to-day,
+  But I am sick for yesterday.
+
+  Since yesterday the hills were blue
+    That shall be gray for evermore,
+  And the fair sunset was shot through
+    With color never seen before!
+  Tyrannic Love smiled yesterday,
+  And lost the terrors of his sway,
+  But is a god again to-day.
+
+  Ah, who will give us back the past?
+    Ah woe, that youth should love to be
+  Like this swift Thames that speeds so fast,
+    And is so fain to find the sea,--
+  That leaves this maze of shadow and sleep,
+  These creeks down which blown blossoms creep,
+  For breakers of the homeless deep.
+
+  Then sit for ever, dear, in stone,
+    As when you turned with half a smile,
+  And I will haunt this islet lone,
+    And with a dream my tears beguile;
+  And in my reverie forget
+  That stars and suns were made to set;
+  That love grows cold, or eyes are wet.
+
+
+
+LYING IN THE GRASS
+
+
+  Between two golden tufts of summer grass,
+  I see the world through hot air as through glass,
+  And by my face sweet lights and colors pass.
+
+  Before me dark against the fading sky,
+  I watch three mowers mowing, as I lie:
+  With brawny arms they sweep in harmony.
+
+  Brown English faces by the sun burnt red,
+  Rich glowing color on bare throat and head,--
+  My heart would leap to watch them, were I dead!
+
+  And in my strong young living as I lie,
+  I seem to move with them in harmony,--
+  A fourth is mowing, and the fourth am I.
+
+  The music of the scythes that glide and leap,
+  The young men whistling as their great arms sweep,
+  And all the perfume and sweet sense of sleep,
+
+  The weary butterflies that droop their wings,
+  The dreamy nightingale that hardly sings,
+  And all the lassitude of happy things,
+
+  Is mingling with the warm and pulsing blood,
+  That gushes through my veins a languid flood,
+  And feeds my spirit as the sap a bud.
+
+  Behind the mowers, on the amber air,
+  A dark-green beech wood rises, still and fair,
+  A white path winding up it like a stair.
+
+  And see that girl, with pitcher on her head,
+  And clean white apron on her gown of red,--
+  Her evensong of love is but half said:
+
+  She waits the youngest mower. Now he goes;
+  Her cheeks are redder than a wild blush-rose;
+  They climb up where the deepest shadows close.
+
+  But though they pass, and vanish, I am there.
+  I watch his rough hands meet beneath her hair;
+  Their broken speech sounds sweet to me like prayer.
+
+  Ah! now the rosy children come to play,
+  And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;
+  Their clear, high voices sound from far away.
+
+  They know so little why the world is sad;
+  They dig themselves warm graves, and yet are glad;
+  Their muffled screams and laughter make me mad!
+
+  I long to go and play among them there;
+  Unseen, like wind, to take them by the hair,
+  And gently make their rosy cheeks more fair.
+
+  The happy children! full of frank surprise,
+  And sudden whims and innocent ecstasies;
+  What Godhead sparkles from their liquid eyes!
+
+  No wonder round those urns of mingled clays
+  That Tuscan potters fashioned in old days,
+  And colored like the torrid earth ablaze,
+
+  We find the little gods and Loves portrayed,
+  Through ancient forests wandering undismayed,
+  And fluting hymns of pleasure unafraid.
+
+  They knew, as I do now, what keen delight
+  A strong man feels to watch the tender flight
+  Of little children playing in his sight.
+
+  I do not hunger for a well-stored mind;
+  I only wish to live my life, and find
+  My heart in unison with all mankind.
+
+  My life is like the single dewy star
+  That trembles on the horizon's primrose bar,--
+  A microcosm where all things living are.
+
+  And if, among the noiseless grasses, Death
+  Should come behind and take away my breath,
+  I should not rise as one who sorroweth:
+
+  For I should pass, but all the world would be
+  Full of desire and young delight and glee,--
+  And why should men be sad through loss of me?
+
+  The light is flying: in the silver blue
+  The young moon shines from her bright window through:
+  The mowers are all gone, and I go too.
+
+
+
+
+RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL
+
+(1823-)
+
+[Illustration: R. VON GOTTSCHALL]
+
+
+Rudolf Von Gottschall was born in Breslau, September 30th, 1823. He was
+the son of a Prussian artillery officer, and as a lad gave early
+evidence of extraordinary talent. His father was transferred to the
+Rhine, and young Gottschall was sent successively to the gymnasiums of
+Mainz and Coblenz. Even in his school days, and before he entered the
+university, he had through his cleverness attained a certain degree of
+eminence. His career at the University of Königsberg, whither he went to
+pursue the study of jurisprudence, was interrupted by the results
+attendant upon a youthful ebullition of the spirit of freedom. His
+sympathy with the revolutionary element was too boldly expressed,
+and when in 1842 he published 'Lieder der Gegenwart' (Songs of the
+Present), he found it necessary to leave the university in order to
+avert impending consequences. In the following year he published
+'Censurflüchtlinge' (Fugitives from the Censor), a poem of a kind not in
+the least likely to conciliate the authorities. He remained for a time
+with Count Reichenbach in Silesia, and then went to Berlin, where he was
+allowed to complete his studies. He was however refused the privilege of
+becoming a university docent, although he had regularly taken his degree
+of _Dr. Juris_.
+
+He now devoted himself wholly to poetry and general literature. For a
+while he held the position of stage manager in the theatre of
+Königsberg, and during this period produced the dramas 'Der Blinde von
+Alcalá' (The Blind Man of Alcalá: 1846), and 'Lord Byron in Italien'
+(Lord Byron in Italy: 1848). After leaving Königsberg he frequently
+changed his residence, living in Hamburg and Breslau, and later in
+Posen, where in 1852 he was editor of a newspaper. In 1853 he went to
+Italy, and after his return he settled in Leipzig. Here he definitely
+established himself, and undertook the editing of Blätter für
+Litterarische Unterhaltung (Leaves for Literary Amusement), and also of
+the monthly periodical Unsere Zeit (Our Time). He wrote profusely, and
+exerted an appreciable influence upon contemporary literature. He was
+ennobled by the Emperor in 1877.
+
+As a poet and man of letters, Gottschall possesses unusual gifts, and is
+a writer of most extraordinary activity. His fecundity is astonishing,
+and the amount of his published work fills many volumes. His versatility
+is no less remarkable than his productiveness. Dramatist and critic,
+novelist and poet,--in all his various fields he is never mediocre.
+Chief among his dramatic works are the tragedies 'Katharina Howard';
+'King Carl XII.'; 'Bernhard of Weimar'; 'Amy Robsart'; 'Arabella
+Stuart'; and the excellent comedy 'Pitt and Fox.' Of narrative poems the
+best known are 'Die Göttin, ein Hohes Lied vom Weibe' (The Goddess, a
+Song of Praise of Woman), 1852; 'Carlo Zeno,' 1854; and 'Sebastopol,'
+1856.
+
+He has published numerous volumes of verses which take a worthy rank in
+the poetry of the time. His first 'Gedichte' (Poems) appeared in 1849;
+'Neue Gedichte' (New Poems) in 1858; 'Kriegslieder'(War Songs) in 1870;
+and 'Janus' and 'Kriegs und Friedens Gedichte' (Poems of War and Peace)
+in 1873. In his novels he is no less successful, and of these may be
+mentioned--'Im Banne des Schwarzen Adlers' (In the Ban of the Black
+Eagle: 1876); 'Welke Blätter' (Withered Leaves: 1878); and 'Das Goldene
+Kalb' (The Golden Calf: 1880).
+
+It is however chiefly as critic that his power has been most widely
+exerted, and prominent among the noteworthy productions of later years
+stand his admirable 'Porträts und Studien' (Portraits and Studies:
+1870-71); and 'Die Deutsche Nationallitteratur in der Ersten Hälfte des
+19. Jahrhunderts' (The German National Literature in the First Half of
+the Nineteenth Century: 1855), continued to the present time in 1892,
+when the whole appeared as 'The German National Literature of the
+Nineteenth Century.'
+
+
+
+HEINRICH HEINE
+
+From 'Portraits and Studies'
+
+
+About no recent poet has so much been said and sung as about Heinrich
+Heine. The youngest writer, who for the first time tries his pen, does
+not neglect to sketch with uncertain outlines the portrait of this poet;
+and the oldest sour-tempered professor of literature, who turns his back
+upon the efforts of the present with the most distinguished disapproval,
+lets fall on the picture a few rays of light, in order to prove the
+degeneration of modern literature in the Mephistophelean features of
+this its chief. Heine's songs are everywhere at home. They are to be
+found upon the music rack of the piano, in the school-books, in the
+slender libraries of minor officers and young clerks. However difficult
+it may be to compile an _editio castigata_ of his poems, every age,
+every generation has selected from among them that which has delighted
+it. Citations from Heine, winged words in verse and prose, buzz through
+the air of the century like a swarm of insects: splendid butterflies
+with gayly glistening wings, beautiful day moths and ghostly night
+moths, tormenting gnats, and bees armed with evil stings. Heine's works
+are canonical books for the intellectual, who season their judgments
+with citations from this poet, model their conversation on his style,
+interpret him, expand the germ cell of his wit to a whole fabric of
+clever developments. Even if he is not a companion on the way through
+life, like great German poets, and smaller Brahmins who for every day of
+our house-and-life calendar give us an aphorism on the road, there are
+nevertheless, in the lives of most modern men, moods with which Heine's
+verse harmonize with wondrous sympathy; moments in which the intimacy
+with this poet is greater than the friendship, even if this be of longer
+duration, with our classic poets.
+
+It is apparently idle to attempt to say anything new of so much
+discussed a singer of modern times, since testimony favorable and
+unfavorable has been drained to exhaustion by friend and foe. Who does
+not know Heine,--or rather, who does not believe that he knows him? for,
+as is immediately to be added, acquaintance with this poet extends
+really only to a few of his songs, and to the complete picture which is
+delivered over ready-made from one history of literature into another.
+Nothing, however, is more perilous and more fatal than literary
+tradition! Not merely decrees and laws pass along by inheritance, like a
+constitutional infirmity, but literary judgments too. They form at last
+a subject of instruction like any other; a dead piece of furniture in
+the spiritual housekeeping, which, like everything that has been
+learned, is set as completed to one side. We know enough of this sort of
+fixed pictures, which at last pass along onward as the fixed ideas of a
+whole epoch, until a later unprejudiced investigation dissolves this
+rigid-grown wisdom, sets it to flowing, and forms out of a new mixture
+of its elements a new and more truthful portrait.
+
+It is not to be affirmed however that Heine's picture, as it stands
+fixed and finished in the literature and the opinion of the present, is
+mistaken and withdrawn. It is dead, like every picture; there is lacking
+the living, changing play of features. We have of Heine only one picture
+before us; of our great poets several. Goethe in his "storm and stress,"
+in Frankfurt, Strassburg, and Wetzlar,--the ardent lover of a Friedrike
+of Sesenheim, the handsome, joyous youth, is different in our minds from
+the stiff and formal Weimar minister; the youthful Apollo different from
+the Olympic Jupiter. There lies a young development between, that we
+feel and are curious to know. It is similar with Schiller. The poet of
+the 'Robbers' with its motto _In tyrannos_, the fugitive from the
+military school; and the Jena professor, the Weimar court councilor who
+wrote 'The Homage of the Arts,'--are two different portraits.
+
+But Heine is to our view always the same, always the representative of
+humor with "a laughing tear" in his escutcheon, always the poetic
+anomaly, coquetting with his pain and scoffing it away. Young or old,
+well or ill, we do not know him different.
+
+And yet this poet too had a development, upon which at different times
+different influences worked....
+
+The first epoch in this course of development may be called the
+"youthful"; the 'Travel Pictures' and the lyrics contained in it form
+its brilliant conclusion. This is no storm-and-stress period in the way
+that, as Schiller and Goethe passed through it, completed works first
+issued under its clarifying influence. On the contrary, it is
+characteristic of Heine that we have to thank this youthful epoch for
+his best and most peculiarly national poems. The wantonness and the
+sorrows of this youth, in their piquant mixture, created these songs
+permeated by the breath of original talent, whose physiognomy, more than
+all that follow later, bears the mark of the kind and manner peculiar to
+Heine, and which for a long time exercised in our literature through a
+countless host of imitators an almost epidemic effect. But these lyric
+pearls, which in their purity and their crystalline polish are a lasting
+adornment of his poet's crown, and belong to the lyric treasures of our
+national literature, were also gathered in his first youthful epoch,
+when he still dived down into the depths of life in the diving-bell of
+romanticism.
+
+Although Heinrich Heine asserted of himself that he belonged to the
+"first men of the century," since he was born in the middle of New
+Year's night, 1800, more exact investigation has nevertheless shown
+that truth is here sacrificed to a witticism. Heine is still a child of
+the eighteenth century, by whose most predominant thoughts his work too
+is influenced, and with whose European coryphæus, Voltaire, he has an
+undeniable relationship. He was born, as Strodtmann proves, on the 13th
+of December, 1799, in Düsseldorf, His father was a plain cloth-merchant;
+his mother, of the family Von Geldern, the daughter of a physician of
+repute. The opinion, however, that Heine was the fruit of a
+Jewish-Christian marriage, is erroneous. The family Von Geldern belonged
+to the orthodox Jewish confession. One of its early members, according
+to family tradition, although he was a Jew, had received the patent of
+nobility from one of the prince electors of Jülich-Kleve-Berg, on
+account of a service accorded him. As, moreover, Schiller's and Goethe's
+mothers worked upon their sons an appreciable educational influence, so
+was this also the case with Heine's mother, who is described as a pupil
+of Rousseau and an adorer of Goethe's elegies, and thus reached far out
+beyond the measure of the bourgeois conditions in which she lived....
+
+That which however worked upon his youthful spirit, upon his whole
+poetical manner, was the French sovereignty in the Rhine-lands at the
+time of his childhood and youth. The Grand Duchy of Berg, to which
+Düsseldorf belonged, was ruled in the French manner; a manner which,
+apart from the violent conscriptions, when compared with the Roman
+imperial periwig style had great advantages, and in particular granted
+to Jews complete equal rights with Christians, since the revolutionary
+principle of equality had outlived the destruction of freedom. Thus the
+Jews in Düsseldorf in their greater part were French sympathizers, and
+Heine's father too was an ardent adherent of the new régime. This as a
+matter of course could not remain without influence upon the son, so
+much the less as he had French instruction at the lyceum. A vein of the
+lively French blood is unmistakable in his works. It drew him later on
+to Paris, where he made the martyr stations of his last years. And of
+all recent German poets, Heinrich Heine is the best known in France,
+better known even than our classic poets; for the French feel this vein
+of related blood....
+
+From his youth springs, too, Heine's enthusiasm for the great Napoleon,
+which however he has never transmitted to the successors of the _idées
+Napoléoniennes_. The thirteen-year-old pupil of the gymnasium saw the
+Emperor in the year 1811, and then again in May 1812; and later on in
+the 'Book Legrand' of the 'Travel Pictures' he strikes up the following
+dithyrambic, which, as is always the case with Heine where the great
+Cæsar is concerned, tones forth pure and full, with genuine poetic
+swing, without those dissonances in which his inmost feelings often
+flow. "What feelings came over me," he exclaims, "when I saw him
+himself, with my own highly favored eyes, him himself, Hosanna, the
+Emperor! It was in the avenue of the Court garden in Düsseldorf. As I
+pushed myself through the gaping people, I thought of his deeds and his
+battles, and my heart beat the general march--and nevertheless, I
+thought at the same time of the police regulation that no one under a
+penalty of five thalers should ride through the middle of the avenue.
+And the Emperor rode quietly through the middle of the avenue; no
+policeman opposed him. Behind him, his suite rode proudly on snorting
+horses and loaded with gold and jewels, the trumpets sounded, and the
+people shouted with a thousand voices, 'Long live the Emperor!'" To this
+enthusiasm for Napoleon, Heine not long afterward gave a poetic setting
+in the ballad 'The Two Grenadiers.'...
+
+The Napoleonic remembrances of his youth, which retained that unfading
+freshness and enthusiasm that are wont to belong to all youthful
+remembrances, were of vital influence upon Heine's later position in
+literature; they formed a balance over against the romantic tendency,
+and hindered him from being drawn into it. Precisely in that epoch when
+the beautiful patriotism of the Wars of Liberation went over into the
+weaker feeling of the time of the restoration, and romanticism, grown
+over-devout, in part abandoned itself to externals, in part became a
+centre of reactionary efforts, Heine let this Napoleonic lightning play
+on the sultry heavens of literature, in the most daring opposition to
+the ruling disposition of the time and a school of poetry from which he
+himself had proceeded; while he declared war upon its followers. However
+greatly he imperiled his reputation as a German patriot through these
+hosannas offered to the hereditary enemy, just as little was it to be
+construed amiss that the remembrance of historical achievements, and of
+those principles of the Revolution which even the Napoleonic despotism
+must represent, were a salutary ventilation in the miasmic atmosphere of
+the continually decreasing circle which at that time described German
+literature. In the prose of Heine, which like Béranger glorified Cæsar,
+slumbered the first germs of the political lyric, which led again out of
+the moonlit magic realm of romanticism into the sunny day of history.
+
+A hopeless youthful love for a charming Hamburg maiden was the Muse of
+the Heine lyric, whose escutcheon has for a symbol "the laughing tear."
+With the simplicity of Herodotus the poet himself relates the fact, the
+experience, in the well-known poem with the final strophe:--
+
+  "It is an ancient story,
+    But still 'tis ever new:
+  To whomsoe'er it happens
+    His heart is broken too."
+
+We comprehend from biographical facts the inner genesis of the Heine
+lyric. Heine was in the position of Werther, but a Werther was for the
+nineteenth century an anomaly; a lyric of this sort in yellow nankeen
+breeches would have travestied itself. The content of the range of
+thought, the circle of world-shaping efforts, had so expanded itself
+since the French Revolution that a complete dissolution into sentimental
+extravagance had become an impossibility. The justification of the
+sentiment was not to be denied; but it must not be regarded as the
+highest, as the life-determining element. It needed a rectification
+which should again rescue the freedom of the spirit. Humor alone could
+accomplish Munchausen's feat, and draw itself by its own hair out of the
+morass. Heine expressed his feelings with genuine warmth; he formed them
+into drawn pictures and visions; but then he placed himself on the
+defensive against them. He is the modern Werther, who instead of loading
+his pistol with a ball, loads it with humor. Artistic harmony suffered
+under this triumph of spiritual freedom; but that which appeared in his
+imitators as voluntary quibbling came from Heine of inner necessity. The
+subject of his first songs is the necessary expression of a struggle
+between feeling and spirit, between the often visionary dream life of a
+sentiment and self-consciousness, soaring free out over the world, which
+adjudged absorption in a single feeling as one-sided and unjustified.
+Later on, to be sure, these subjects of youthful inspiration became in
+Heine himself a satiric-humoristic manner, which regarded as a model
+worked much evil in literature. In addition to personal necessity
+through one's own experience, there was for a genius such as Heine's
+also a literary necessity, which lay in the development of our
+literature in that epoch. It was the Indian Summer of romanticism, whose
+cobwebs at this time flew over the stubble of our poetry. The vigorous
+onset of the lyricists of the Wars of Liberation had again grown lame;
+people reveled in the album sentiments of Tiedge and Mahlmann; the
+spectres of Amadeus Hoffmann and the lovely high-born maidens of knight
+Fouqué were regarded then as the noblest creations of German fantasy.
+Less chosen spirits, that is to say, the entire great reading public of
+the German nation, which ever felt toward its immortals a certain
+aversion, refreshed itself with the lukewarm water of the poetry of
+Clauren, from out of which, instead of the Venus Anadyomene, appear a
+Mimili and other maiden forms, pretty, but drawn with a stuffed-out
+plasticism. On the stage reigned the "fate tragedies" upon whose lyre
+the strings were wont to break even in the first scene, and whose ghosts
+slipped silently over all the German boards. In a word, spirits
+controlled the poetry of the time more than spirit.
+
+Heine however was a genuine knight of the spirit, and even if he
+conjured up his lyric spectres, he demanded no serious belief in
+them--they were dissolving pictures of mist; and if he followed his
+overflowing feelings, the mawkish sentiments of romanticism occurred to
+him and disgusted him with the extravagant expression of his love pain,
+and he mocked himself, the time, and the literature,--dissolved the
+sweet accords in glaring dissonances, so that they should not be in tune
+with the sentimental street songs of the poets of the day. In these
+outer and inner reasons lie the justification and the success of the
+lyric poetry of Heine. It designates an act of self-consciousness of the
+German spirit, which courageously lifts itself up out of idle love
+complainings and fantastic dream life, and at the same time mocks them
+both. An original talent like Heine's was needed to give to the derided
+sentiment such a transporting magic, to the derision itself such an
+Attic grace, that the sphinx of his poetry, with the beautiful face and
+the rending claws, always produced the impression of a work of art. The
+signification in literary history of these songs of Heine is not to be
+underestimated. They indicate the dissolution of romanticism, and with
+them begins the era of modern German poetry.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by William H. Carpenter
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GOWER
+
+(1325?-1408)
+
+[Illustration: JOHN GOWER]
+
+
+Since Caxton, the first printer of 'Confessio Amantis' (The Confession
+of a Lover), described Gower as a "squyer borne in Walys in the tyme of
+Kyng Richard the second," there has been a diversity of opinion about
+his birthplace, and he has been classed variously with prosperous Gowers
+until of late, when the county assigned to him is Kent. His birth-year
+is placed approximately at 1325. We know nothing of his early life and
+education. It has been guessed that he went to Oxford, and afterwards
+traveled in the troubled kingdom of France. Such a course might have
+been followed by a man of his estate. He had means, for English property
+records (in this instance the rolls of Chancery, the parchment
+foundation of English society) still preserve deeds of his holdings in
+Kent and Essex and elsewhere.
+
+His life lay along with that of Chaucer's, in the time when Edward III.
+and his son the Black Prince were carrying war into France, and the
+English Parliament were taking pay in plain speaking for what they
+granted in supplies, and wresting at the same time promises of reform
+from the royal hand. But Gower and Chaucer were not only contemporaries:
+they were of like pursuit, tastes, and residence; they were friends; and
+when Chaucer under Richard II., the grandson and successor of Edward,
+went to France upon the mission of which Froissart speaks, he named John
+Gower as one of his two attorneys while he should be away. Notice of
+Gower's marriage to Agnes Groundolf late in life--in 1397--is still
+preserved. Three years after this he became blind,--it was the year
+1400, in which Chaucer died,--and in 1408 he died.
+
+     "The infirm poet," says Morley, "spent the evening of his
+     life at St. Mary Overies [St. Mary-over-the-River], in
+     retirement from all worldly affairs except pious and liberal
+     support of the advancing building works in the priory, and in
+     the church now known as St. Saviour's [Southwark], to which
+     he bequeathed his body. His will, made not long before death,
+     bequeathed his soul to God, his body to be buried in St.
+     Mary Overies. The poet bequeathed also 13_s._ 4_d._ to each
+     of the four parish churches of Southwark for ornaments and
+     lights, besides 6_s._ 8_d._ for prayers to each of their
+     curates. It is not less characteristic that he left also
+     40_s._ for prayers to the master of St. Thomas's Hospital,
+     and, still for prayers, 6_s._ 8_d._ to each of its priests,
+     3_s._ 4_d._ to each Sister in the hospital, twenty pence to
+     each nurse of the infirm there, and to each of the infirm
+     twelve pence. There were similar bequests to St. Thomas
+     Elsing Spital, a priory and hospital that stood where now
+     stands Sion College. St. Thomas Elsing Spital, founded in
+     1329 by William Elsing, was especially commended to the
+     sympathies of the blind old poet, as it consisted of a
+     college for a warden, four priests, and two clerks, who had
+     care of one hundred old, blind, and poor persons of both
+     sexes, preference being given to blind, paralytic, and
+     disabled priests. Like legacies were bequeathed also to
+     Bedlam-without-Bishopsgate, and to St. Mary's Hospital,
+     Westminster. Also there were bequests of ten shillings to
+     each of the leper-nurses. Two robes (one of white silk, the
+     other of blue baudekin,--a costly stuff with web of gold and
+     woof of silk), also a new dish and chalice, and a new missal,
+     were bequeathed to the perpetual service of the altar of the
+     chapel of St. John the Baptist, in which his body was to be
+     buried. To the prior and convent he left a great book, a
+     'Martyrology,' which had been composed and written for them
+     at his expense. To his wife Agnes he left a hundred pounds,
+     three cups, one coverlet, two salt-cellars, and a dozen
+     silver spoons; also all his beds and chests, with the
+     furnishings of hall, pantry, and kitchen; also a chalice and
+     robe for the altar of the chapel of their house; and she was
+     to have for life all rents due to him from his manors of
+     Southwell (in Nottingham) and Moulton (in Suffolk)."
+
+His wife was one of his executors. The will is still preserved at
+Lambeth Palace.
+
+Gower's tomb and monument may also still be seen at St. Saviour's, where
+the description Berthelet gave of them in 1532 is, aside from the
+deadening of the paintings, true:--"Somewhat after the olde ffashion he
+lyeth ryght sumptuously buryed, with a garland on his head, in token
+that he in his lyfe dayes flouryshed freshely in literature and
+science." The head of his stone effigy lies upon three volumes
+representing Gower's three great works; the hair falls in long curls;
+the robe is closely buttoned to the feet, which rest upon a lion, and
+the neck is encircled with a collar, from which a chain held a small
+swan, the badge of Henry IV. "Besyde on the wall where as he lyeth,"
+continues Berthelet, "there be peynted three virgins, with crownes on
+theyr heades; one of the which is written _Charitie_, and she holdeth
+this devise in her hande:--
+
+  'En toy qui fitz de Dieu le Pere
+  Sauve soit que gist souz cest piere.'
+
+  (In thee, who art Son of God the Father,
+  Be he saved who lieth under this stone.)
+
+"The second is wrytten _Mercye_, which holdeth in her hande this
+devise:--
+
+  'O bone Jesu fait ta mercy
+  Al alme dont le corps gist icy.'
+
+  (O good Jesus, grant thy mercy
+  To the soul whose body lies here.)
+
+"The thyrde of them is wrytten _Pity_, which holdeth in her hand this
+devise:--
+
+  'Pur ta pite, Jesu regarde,
+  Et met cest alme en sauve garde.'"
+
+  (For thy pity, Jesus, see;
+  And take this soul in thy safe guard.)
+
+The monument was repaired in 1615, 1764, and 1830.
+
+The three works which pillow the head of the effigy indicate Gower's
+'Speculum Meditantis' (The Looking-Glass of One Meditating), which the
+poet wrote in French; the 'Vox Clamantis' (The Voice of One Crying), in
+Latin; and the 'Confessio Amantis,' in English. It should be remembered
+in noting this mixture of tongues, that in Gower's early life the
+English had no national speech. The court, Parliament, nobles, and the
+courts of law used French; the Church held its service in Latin; while
+the inhabitants of Anglo-Saxon blood clung to the language of their
+fathers, which they had modified by additions from the Norman tongue. It
+was not until 1362 that Parliament was opened by a speech in English.
+"There is," says Dr. Pauli, "no better illustration of the singular
+transition to the English language than a short enumeration and
+description of Gower's writings." Of the 'Speculum Meditantis,' a
+treatise in ten books on the duties of married life, no copy is known to
+exist. The 'Vox Clamantis' was the voice of the poet, singing in Latin
+elegiac of the terrible evils which led to the rise of the commons and
+their march to London under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw in 1381. It is
+doubtless a true picture of the excesses and miseries of the day. The
+remedy, the poet says, is in reform--right living and love of England.
+Simony in the prelates, avarice and drunkenness in the libidinous
+priests, wealth and luxury in the mendicant orders, miscarrying of
+justice in the courts, enrichment of individuals by excessive
+taxes,--these are the subjects of the voice crying in the wilderness.
+
+Gower's greatest work, however, is the 'Confessio Amantis.' In form it
+is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a priest of
+Venus. In substance it is a setting-forth, with moralizings which are at
+times touching and elevated, of one hundred and twelve different
+stories, from sources so different as the Bible, Ovid, Josephus, the
+'Gesta Romanorum,' Valerius Maximus, Statius, Boccaccio, etc. Thirty
+thousand eight-syllabled rhymed lines make up the work. There are
+different versions. The first was dedicated to Richard II., and the
+second to his successor, Henry of Lancaster. Besides these large works,
+a number of French ballades, and also English and Latin short poems, are
+preserved. "They have real and intrinsic merit," says Todd: "they are
+tender, pathetic, and poetical, and place our old poet Gower in a more
+advantageous point of view than that in which he has heretofore been
+usually seen."
+
+Estimates of Gower's writings are various; but even his most hostile
+judges admit the pertinence of the epithet with which Chaucer hails him
+in his dedication of 'Troilus and Creseide':--
+
+  "O morall Gower, this bookè I direct
+  To thee and to the philosophicall Strode,
+  To vouchsafè there need is to correct
+  Of your benignities and zealès good."
+
+Then Skelton the laureate, in his long song upon the death of Philip
+Sparrow (which recalls the exquisite gem of Catullus in a like
+threnody), takes occasion to say:--
+
+  "Gower's englysshè is olde,
+  And of no valúe is tolde;
+  His mattér is worth gold,
+  And worthy to be enrold."
+
+And again:--
+
+  Gower that first garnishèd our English rude."
+
+Old Puttenham also bears this testimony:--"But of them all [the English
+poets] particularly this is myne opinion, that Chaucer, with Gower,
+Lidgate, and Harding, for their antiquitie ought to have the first
+place."
+
+Taine dismisses him with little more than a fillip, and Lowell, while
+discoursing appreciatively on Chaucer, says:--
+
+     "Gower has positively raised tediousness to the precision of
+     science; he has made dullness an heirloom for the students of
+     our literary history. As you slip to and fro on the frozen
+     levels of his verse, which give no foothold to the mind; as
+     your nervous ear awaits the inevitable recurrence of his
+     rhyme, regularly pertinacious as the tick of an eight-day
+     clock, and reminding you of Wordsworth's
+
+        'Once more the ass did lengthen out
+        The hard dry seesaw of his horrible bray,'
+
+     you learn to dread, almost to respect, the powers of this
+     indefatigable man. He is the undertaker of the fair mediæval
+     legend, and his style has the hateful gloss, the seemingly
+     unnatural length, of a coffin."
+
+Yet hear Morley:--
+
+     "To this day we hear among our living countrymen, as was to
+     be heard in Gower's time and long before, the voice passing
+     from man to man, that in spite of admixture with the thousand
+     defects incident to human character, sustains the keynote of
+     our literature, and speaks from the soul of our history the
+     secret of our national success. It is the voice that
+     expresses the persistent instinct of the English mind to find
+     out what is unjust among us and undo it, to find out duty to
+     be done and do it, as God's bidding.... In his own Old
+     English or Anglo-Saxon way he tries to put his soul into his
+     work. Thus in the 'Vox Clamantis' we have heard him asking
+     that the soul of his book, not its form, be looked to; and
+     speaking the truest English in such sentences as that 'the
+     eye is blind and the ear deaf, that convey nothing down to
+     the heart's depth; and the heart that does not utter what it
+     knows is as a live coal under ashes. If I know little, there
+     may be another whom that little will help.... But to the man
+     who believes in God, no power is unattainable if he but
+     rightly feels his work; he ever has enough, whom God
+     increases.' This is the old spirit of Cædmon and of Bede; in
+     which are laid, while the earth lasts, the strong foundations
+     of our literature. It was the strength of such a temper in
+     him that made Gower strong. 'God knows,' he says again, 'my
+     wish is to be useful; that is the prayer that directs my
+     labor.' And while he thus touches the root of his country's
+     philosophy, the form of his prayer--that what he has written
+     may be what he would wish it to be--is still a thoroughly
+     sound definition of good English writing. His prayer is that
+     there may be no word of untruth, and that 'each word may
+     answer to the thing it speaks of, pleasantly and fitly; that
+     he may flatter in it no one, and seek in it no praise above
+     the praise of God.'"
+
+The part of Gower's writing here brought before the reader is the
+quaintly told and charming story of Petronella, from 'Liber Primus' of
+the 'Confessio.' It may be evidence that all the malediction upon the
+poet above quoted is not deserved.
+
+The 'Confessio Amantis' has been edited and collated with the best
+manuscripts by Dr. Reinhold Pauli (1857). The 'Vox Clamantis' was
+printed for the first time in 1850, under the editorship of H. O. Coxe
+and for the Roxburghe Club. The 'Balades and Other Poems' are also
+included in the publication of the Roxburghe Club. Other sources of
+information regarding Gower are 'Illustrations of the Lives and Writings
+of Gower and Chaucer' by Henry J. Todd (1810); Henry Morley's reviews in
+'English Writers'; and various short articles.
+
+
+
+PETRONELLA
+
+From the 'Confessio Amantis'
+
+
+  A king whilom was yonge and wise,
+  The which set of his wit great prise.
+  Of depe ymaginations
+  And straunge interpretations,
+  Problemes and demaundès eke
+  His wisedom was to finde and seke;
+  Wherof he wolde in sondry wise
+  Opposen hem that weren wise.
+  But none of hem it mightè bere
+  Upon his word to yive answére;[1]
+  Out taken one, which was a knight:
+  To him was every thing so light,
+  That also sone as he hem herde
+  The kingès wordès he answerde,
+  What thing the king him axè wolde,
+  Whereof anone the trouth he tolde.
+  The king somdele had an envie,
+  And thought he wolde his wittès plie
+    To setè some conclusion,
+    Which shuldè be confusion
+  Unto this knight, so that the name
+  And of wisdom the highè fame
+  Towárd him selfe he woldè winne.
+  And thus of all his wit withinne
+  This king began to studie and muse
+  What straungè matér he might use
+  The knightès wittès to confounde;
+  And atè last he hath it founde,
+  And for the knight anon he sente,
+  That he shall tellè what he mente.
+  Upon three points stood the matére,
+  Of questions as thou shaltè here.
+    The firstè pointè of all thre
+  Was this: what thing in his degre
+  Of all this world hath nedè lest,
+  And yet men helpe it allthermest.
+    The second is: what moste is worth
+  And of costáge is lest put forth.
+    The thrid is: which is of most cost,
+  And lest is worth, and goth to lost.
+    The king these thre demaundès axeth.
+  To the knight this law he taxeth:
+  That he shall gone, and comen ayein
+  The thriddè weke, and tell him pleine
+  To every point, what it amounteth.
+  And if so be that he miscounteth
+  To make in his answére a faile,
+  There shall none other thinge availe,
+  The king saith, but he shall be dede
+  And lese his goodès and his hede.
+  This knight was sory of this thinge,
+  And wolde excuse him to the kinge;
+  But he ne wolde him nought forbere,
+  And thus the knight of his answére
+  Goth home to take avisement.
+  But after his entendement
+  The more he cast his wit about,
+  The more he stant thereof in doubte.
+  Tho[2] wist he well the kingès herte,
+  That he the deth ne shulde asterte,[3]
+  And suche a sorroe to him hath take
+  That gladship he hath all forsake.
+  He thought first upon his life,
+  And after that upon his wife,
+  Upon his children eke also,
+  Of whichè he had doughteres two.
+  The yongest of hem had of age
+  Fourtene yere, and of visage
+  She was right faire, and of stature
+  Lich to an hevenlich figure,
+  And of manér and goodly speche,
+  Though men wolde all landès seche,
+  They shulden nought have founde her like.
+  She sigh[4] her fader sorroe and sike,[5]
+  And wist nought the causè why.
+  So cam she to him prively,
+  And that was wher he made his mone
+  Within a gardin all him one.[6]
+  Upon her knees she gan down falle
+  With humble herte, and to him calle
+  And saidè:--"O good fader dere,
+  Why makè ye thus hevy chere,[7]
+  And I wot nothinge how it is?
+  And well ye knowè, fader, this,
+  What ádventurè that you felle
+  Ye might it saufly to me telle;
+  For I have oftè herd you saide,
+  That ye such truste have on me laide,
+  That to my suster ne to my brother
+  In all this worlde ne to none other
+  Ye durstè telle a privete
+  So well, my fader, as to me.
+  Forthy,[8] my fader, I you praie
+  Ne casteth nought that hert[9] awaie,
+  For I am she that woldè kepe
+  Your honour." And with that to wepe
+  Her eye may nought be forbore;[10]
+  She wisheth for to ben unbore,[11]
+  Er[12] that her fader so mistriste
+  To tellen her of that he wiste.
+  And ever among mercy[13] she cride,
+  That he ne shulde his counseil hide
+  From her, that so wolde him good
+  And was so nigh flesshe and blood.
+  So that with weping, atè laste
+  His chere upon his childe he caste,
+  And sorroefully to that she praide[14]
+  He tolde his tale, and thus he saide:--
+  "The sorroe, doughter, which I make
+  Is nought all only for my sake,
+  But for the bothe and for you alle.
+  For suche a chaunce is me befalle,
+  That I shall er this thriddè day
+  Lese all that ever I lesè may,
+  My life and all my good therto.
+  Therefore it is I sorroe so."
+    "What is the cause, alas," quod she,
+  "My fader, that ye shulden be
+  Dede and destruied in suche a wise?"
+    And he began the points devise,
+  Which as the king tolde him by mouthe,
+  And said her pleinly, that he couthe
+  Answeren to no point of this.
+  And she, that hereth howe it is,
+  Her counseil yaf[15] and saide tho[16]:--
+    "My fader, sithen it is so,
+  That ye can se none other weie,
+  But that ye must nedès deie,
+  I wolde pray you of o[17] thinge,--
+  Let me go with you to the kinge,
+  And ye shall make him understonde,
+  How ye, my wittès for to fonde,
+  Have laid your answere upon me,
+  And telleth him in such degre
+  Upon my worde ye wol abide
+  To life or deth, what so betide.
+  For yet perchaunce I may purchace
+  With some good word the kingès grace,
+  Your life and eke your good to save.
+  For oftè shall a woman have
+  Thing, whiche a man may nought areche."
+    The fader herd his doughters speche,
+  And thought there was no reson in,
+  And sigh his ownè life to winne
+  He couthè done himself no cure.[18]
+  So better him thought in àventure
+  To put his life and all his good,
+  Than in the manner as it stood,
+  His life incertein for to lese.
+  And thus thenkend he gan to chese
+  To do the counseil of this maid,
+  And toke the purpose which she said.
+    The day was comen, and forth they gone;
+  Unto the court they come anone,
+  Where as the kinge in his jugement
+  Was set and hath this knight assent.
+  Arraièd in her bestè wise,
+  This maiden with her wordès wise
+  Her fader leddè by the honde
+  Into the place,[19] where he fonde
+  The king with other which he wolde;
+  And to the king knelend he tolde
+  As he enformèd was to-fore,
+  And praith the king, that he therfore
+  His doughters wordès woldè take;
+  And saith, that he woll undertake
+  Upon her wordès for to stonde.
+  Tho was ther great merveile on honde,
+  That he, which was so wise a knight,
+  His life upon so yonge a wight
+  Besettè wolde in jeopartie,
+  And many it helden for folie.
+  But at the lastè, netheles,
+  The king commaundeth ben in pees,
+  And to this maide he cast his chere,[20]
+  And saide he wolde her talè here,
+  And bad her speke; and she began:--
+    "My legè lord, so as I can,"
+  Quod she, "the pointès which I herde,
+  They shull of reson ben answerde.
+  The first I understonde is this:
+  What thinge of all the worlde it is,
+  Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.
+  My legè lord, this wolde I rede:
+  The erthe it is, which evermo
+  With mannès labour is bego
+  As well in winter as in maie.
+  The mannès honde doth what he may
+  To helpe it forth and make it riche,
+  And forthy men it delve and diche,
+  And even it with strength of plough,
+  Wher it hath of him self inough
+  So that his nede is atè leste.
+  For every man, birdè, and beste
+  Of flour and gras and roote and rinde
+  And every thing by way of kinde
+  Shall sterve, and erthe it shall become
+  As it was out of erthè nome,[21]
+  It shall be therthe torne ayein.[22]
+  And thus I may by reson sein
+  That erthè is the most nedeles
+  And most men helpe it netheles;
+  So that, my lord, touchend of this
+  I have answerde how that it is.
+    That other point I understood,
+  Which most is worth, and most is good,
+  And costeth lest a man to kepe:
+  My lorde, if ye woll takè kepe,[23]
+  I say it is humilitè,
+  Through whichè the high Trinitè
+  As for desertè of pure love
+  Unto Mariè from above,
+  Of that he knewe her humble entente,
+  His ownè Sone adown he sente
+  Above all other, and her he chese
+  For that vertu, which bodeth pees.
+  So that I may by reson calle
+  Humilitè most worthe of alle,
+  And lest it costeth to mainteine
+  In all the worlde, as it is seine.
+  For who that hath humblesse on honde,
+  He bringeth no werres into londe,
+  For he desireth for the best
+  To setten every man in reste.
+  Thus with your highè reverence
+  Me thenketh that this evidence
+  As to this point is suffisaunt.
+    And touchend of the remenaunt,
+  Which is the thridde of your axinges,
+  What lest is worth of allè thinges,
+  And costeth most, I telle it pride,
+  Which may nought in the heven abide.
+  For Lucifer with hem that felle
+  Bar pridè with him into helle.
+  There was pride of to grete cost
+  Whan he for pride hath heven lost;
+  And after that in Paradise
+  Adam for pridè lost his prise
+  In middel-erth. And eke also
+  Pride is the cause of allè wo,
+  That all the world ne may suffice
+  To staunche of pridè the reprise.
+  Pride is the heved[24] of all sinne,
+  Which wasteth all and may nought winne;
+  Pride is of every mis[25] the pricke[26];
+  Pride is the worstè of all wicke,
+  And costeth most and lest is worth
+  In placè where he hath his forth.
+    Thus have I said that I woll say
+  Of min answére, and to you pray,
+  My legè lorde, of your office,
+  That ye such grace and suche justice
+  Ordeignè for my fader here,
+  That after this, whan men it here,
+  The world therof may spekè good."
+    The king, which reson understood,
+  And hath all herde how she hath said,
+  Was inly glad, and so well paid,
+  That all his wrath is over go.
+  And he began to lokè tho
+  Upon this maiden in the face,
+  In which he found so mochel grace,
+  That all his prise on her he laide
+  In audience, and thus he saide:--
+    "My fairè maidè, well the[27] be
+  Of thin answére, and eke of the
+  Me liketh well, and as thou wilte,
+  Foryivè be thy faders gilte.
+  And if thou were of such lignage,
+  That thou to me were of parage,
+  And that thy fader were a pere,
+  As he is now a bachelere,
+  So siker as I have a life,
+  Thou sholdest thannè be my wife.
+  But this I saiè netheles,
+  That I woll shapè thin encrese;
+  What worldès good that thou wolt crave
+  Are of my yift, and thou shalt have."
+    And she the king with wordès wise,
+  Knelende, thanketh in this wise:--
+    "My legè lord, god mot you quite.[28]
+  My fader here hath but a lite
+  Of warison,[29] and that he wende
+  Had all be[30] lost, but now amende
+  He may well through you noble grace."
+    With that the king right in his place
+  Anon forth in that freshè hete
+  An erldome, which than of eschete
+  Was latè falle into his honde,
+  Unto this knight with rent and londe
+  Hath yove, and with his chartre sesed,
+  And thus was all the noise appesed.
+  This maiden, which sate on her knees
+  To-fore the kingès charitees,
+  Commendeth and saith evermore:--
+    "My legè lord, right now to-fore
+  Ye saide, and it is of recorde,
+  That if my fader were a lorde
+  And pere unto these other grete,
+  Ye wolden for nought ellès lette,
+  That I ne sholdè be your wife.
+  And thus wote every worthy life
+  A kingès worde mot nede be holde.
+  Forthy my lord, if that ye wolde
+  So great a charitè fulfille,
+  God wotè it were well my wille.
+  For he which was a bachelere,
+  My fader, is now made a pere;
+  So whan as ever that I cam,
+  An erlès doughter nowe I am."
+    This yongè king, which peisèd[31] all
+  Her beautè and her wit withall,
+  As he, which was with lovè hente,[32]
+  Anone therto gaf his assente.
+  He might nought the place asterte,
+  That she nis lady of his herte.
+  So that he toke her to his wife
+  To holdè, while that he hath life.
+  And thus the king towárd his knight
+  Accordeth him, as it is right.
+  And over this good is to wite[33]
+  In the cronique as it is write,
+  This noble kinge, of whom I tolde,
+  Of Spainè by tho daiès olde
+  The kingdom had in governaunce,
+  And as the boke maketh remembraunce,
+  Alphonsè was his propre name.
+  The knight also, if I shall name,
+  Danz Petro hight, and as men telle,
+  His doughter wisè Petronelle
+  Was clepèd, which was full of grace.
+  And that was sene in thilkè place,
+  Where she her fader out of tene[34]
+  Hath brought and made her selfe a quene,
+  Of that she hath so well desclosed
+  The points whereof she was opposed.
+
+    [1] No one could solve his puzzles.
+
+    [2] For.
+
+    [3] Escape.
+
+    [4] Saw.
+
+    [5] Sigh.
+
+    [6] Own.
+
+    [7] Care.
+
+    [8] Therefore.
+
+    [9] Heart.
+
+    [10] Cannot endure it.
+
+    [11] Unborn.
+
+    [12] Ere.
+
+    [13] In the midst of pity (for him).
+
+    [14] In answer to her prayer.
+
+    [15] Gave.
+
+    [16] Thus.
+
+    [17] One.
+
+    [18] Saw that he could do nothing to save his own life.
+
+    [19] Palace.
+
+    [20] Turned his attention.
+
+    [21] Taken.
+
+    [22] Shall turn thereto again.
+
+    [23] Heed.
+
+    [24] Head.
+
+    [25] Mischief.
+
+    [26] Core.
+
+    [27] Thee.
+
+    [28] May God requite you.
+
+    [29] Has had but little reward.
+
+    [30] Been.
+
+    [31] Poised--weighed.
+
+    [32] Seized.
+
+    [33] Know.
+
+    [34] Destruction.
+
+
+
+
+[ILLUSTRATION: ULYSSES S. GRANT]
+
+
+
+
+ULYSSES S. GRANT
+
+(1822-1885)
+
+BY HAMLIN GARLAND
+
+
+Ulysses Grant was born on the 27th of April, 1822, in a small two-room
+cabin situated in Point Pleasant, a village in southern Ohio, about
+forty miles above Cincinnati. His father, Jesse R. Grant, was a
+powerful, alert, and resolute man, ready of speech and of fair education
+for the time. His family came from Connecticut, and was of the earliest
+settlers in New England. Hannah Simpson, his wife, was of strong
+American stock also. The Simpsons had been residents, for several
+generations, of southeastern Pennsylvania. The Grants and the Simpsons
+had been redoubtable warriors in the early wars of the republic. Hannah
+Simpson was a calm, equable, self-contained young woman, as reticent and
+forbearing as her husband was disputatious and impetuous.
+
+Their first child was named Hiram Ulysses Grant. Before the child was
+two years of age, Jesse Grant, who was superintending a tannery in Point
+Pleasant, removed to Georgetown, Brown County, Ohio, and set up in
+business for himself. Georgetown was a village in the deep woods, and in
+and about this village Ulysses Grant grew to be a sturdy, self-reliant
+boy. He loved horses, and became a remarkable rider and teamster at a
+very early age. He was not notable as a scholar, but it was soon
+apparent that he had inherited the self-poise, the reticence, and the
+modest demeanor of his mother. He took part in the games and sports of
+the boys, but displayed no military traits whatever. At the age of
+seventeen he was a fair scholar for his opportunities, and his ambitious
+father procured for him an appointment to the Military Academy at West
+Point. He reported at the adjutant's desk in June 1839, where he found
+his name on the register "Ulysses S. Grant" through a mistake of his
+Congressman, Thomas L. Hamer. Meanwhile, to escape ridicule on the
+initials of his name, which spelled "H.U.G." he had transposed his name
+to Ulysses H. Grant, and at his request the adjutant changed the S to an
+H; but the name on record in Washington was Ulysses S., and so he
+remained "U. S. Grant" to the government and U. H. Grant to his friends
+and relatives.
+
+His record at West Point was a good one in mathematics and fair in most
+of his studies. He graduated at about the middle of his class, which
+numbered thirty-nine. He was much beloved and respected as an upright,
+honorable, and loyal young fellow. At the time of his graduation he was
+president of the only literary society of the academy; W. S. Hancock was
+its secretary.
+
+He remained markedly unmilitary throughout his course, and was
+remembered mainly as a good comrade, a youth of sound judgment, and the
+finest horseman in the academy. He asked to be assigned to cavalry duty,
+but was brevetted second lieutenant of the 4th Infantry, and ordered to
+Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis. Here he remained till the spring of
+1844, when his regiment was ordered to a point on the southwestern
+frontier, near the present town of Natchitoches, Louisiana. Here he
+remained till May 1845, when the Mexican War opened, and for the next
+three years he served with his regiment in every battle except Buena
+Vista. He was twice promoted for gallant conduct, and demonstrated his
+great coolness, resource, and bravery in the hottest fire. He was
+regimental quartermaster much of the time, and might honorably have kept
+out of battle, but he contrived to be in the forefront with his command.
+
+In the autumn of 1848 he married Miss Julia Dent of St. Louis, and as
+first lieutenant and regimental quartermaster, with a brevet of captain,
+he served at Sackett's Harbor and Detroit alternately till June 1852,
+when he was ordered to the coast. This was a genuine hardship, for he
+was unable to take his wife and child with him; but he concluded to
+remain in the army, and went with his command, sailing from New York and
+passing by the way of the Isthmus. On the way across the Isthmus the
+regiment encountered cholera, and all Grant's coolness, resource, and
+bravery were required to get his charge safely across. "He seemed never
+to think of himself, and appeared to be a man of iron," his companions
+said.
+
+He was regimental quartermaster at Fort Vancouver, near Portland,
+Oregon, for one year. In 1853 he was promoted to a captaincy and ordered
+to Fort Humboldt, near Eureka in California. In 1854, becoming
+disheartened by the never-ending vista of barrack life, and despairing
+of being able to have his wife and children with him, he sent in his
+resignation, to take effect July 31st, 1854. He had lost money by
+unfortunate business ventures, and so returned forlorn and penniless to
+New York. Thence he made his way to St. Louis to his wife and children,
+and began the world again as a farmer, without a house or tools or
+horses.
+
+His father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Dent, who lived about ten miles out of
+the city, set aside some sixty or eighty acres of land for his use, and
+thereon he built with his own hands a log cabin, which he called
+"Hardscrabble." For nearly four years he lived the life of a farmer. He
+plowed, hoed, cleared the land, hauled wood and props to the mines, and
+endured all the hardships and privations of a small farmer. In 1858 his
+health gave way, and he moved to St. Louis in the attempt to get into
+some less taxing occupation. He tried for the position of county
+engineer, and failed. He went into the real estate business with a
+friend, and failed in that. He secured a place in the customs office,
+but the collector died and he was thrown out of employment.
+
+In the spring of 1860, despairing of getting a foothold in St. Louis, he
+removed to Galena, Illinois, where his father had established a leather
+store, a branch of his tannery in Covington, Kentucky. Here he came in
+touch again with his two brothers, Simpson and Orvil Grant. He became a
+clerk at a salary of six hundred dollars per annum. At this time he was
+a quiet man of middle age, and his manner and mode of life attracted
+little attention till in 1861, when Sumter was fired upon and Lincoln
+called for volunteers. Galena at once held a war meeting to raise a
+company. Captain Grant, because of his military experience, was made
+president of the meeting, and afterward was offered the captaincy of the
+company, which he refused, saying, "I have been a captain in the regular
+army. I am fitted to command a regiment."
+
+He wrote at once a patriotic letter to his father-in-law, wherein he
+said, "I foresee the doom of slavery." He accompanied the company to
+Springfield, where his military experience was needed. Governor Richard
+Yates gave him work in the adjutant's office, then made him drill-master
+at Camp Yates; and as his efficiency became apparent he was appointed
+governor's aide, with rank of colonel. He mustered in several regiments,
+among them the 7th Congressional regiment at Mattoon. He made such an
+impression on this regiment that they named their camp in his honor, and
+about the middle of June sent a delegation of officers to ask that he be
+made colonel. Governor Yates reluctantly appointed him, and at the
+request of General John C. Frémont, the commander of the Department of
+the West, Grant's regiment (known as the 21st Illinois Volunteers) was
+ordered to Missouri. Colonel Grant marched his men overland, being the
+first commander of the State to decline railway transportation. His
+efficiency soon appeared, and he was given the command of all the troops
+in and about Mexico, Missouri. At this point he received a dispatch from
+E. B. Washburne, Congressman for his district, that President Lincoln
+had made him brigadier-general. He was put in command at Ironton,
+Missouri, and was proceeding against Colonel Hardee, when he was
+relieved from command by B. M. Prentiss and ordered to Jefferson City,
+Missouri. He again brought order out of chaos, and was ready for a
+campaign, when he was again relieved, and by suggestion of President
+Lincoln placed in command of a district with headquarters at Cairo,
+Illinois.
+
+This was his first adequate command, and with clear and orderly activity
+he organized his command of nearly ten thousand men. On the 6th of
+September, learning that the Confederates were advancing on Paducah, he
+took the city without firing a gun, and issued an address to the people
+of Kentucky which led Lincoln to say, "The man who can write like that
+is fitted to command in the West." Early in November, in obedience to a
+command from Frémont, he fought the battle of Belmont, thus preventing
+General Polk from reinforcing Price in Missouri. This was neither a
+victory nor a defeat, as the purpose was not to hold Belmont.
+
+In February 1862, with an army of twenty thousand men and accompanied by
+Commander Foote's flotilla, he took Fort Henry and marched on Fort
+Donelson. On the 16th of the same month he had invested Donelson and had
+beaten the enemy within their works. General Simon Buckner, his old
+classmate and comrade, was in command. He wrote to Grant, asking for
+commissioners to agree upon terms. Grant replied: "_No terms except an
+unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted. I propose to move
+immediately upon your works._" Buckner surrendered, and Grant's sturdy
+words flamed over the land, making him "Unconditional Surrender Grant."
+The whole nation thrilled with the surprise and joy of this capture, and
+the obscure brigadier-general became the hero of the day. He was made
+major-general, and given the command of the District of Western
+Tennessee.
+
+On the 6th and 7th of April he fought the terrible battle of Shiloh, and
+won it, though with great loss, owing to the failure of part of his
+reinforcements to arrive. Immediately after this battle, General H. W.
+Halleck, who had relieved General Frémont as commander in the West, took
+command in person, and by a clever military device deprived Grant of all
+command; and for six weeks the army timidly advanced on Corinth. Corinth
+was evacuated by the enemy before Halleck dared to attack, and Grant had
+no hand in any important command until late in the year.
+
+Halleck went to Washington in July, leaving Grant again in command; but
+his forces were so depleted that he could do little but defend his lines
+and stores. In January 1863 he began to assemble his troops to attack
+Vicksburg, but high water kept him inactive till the following April.
+His plan, then fully developed, was to run the battery with gunboats and
+transports, march his troops across the peninsula before the city, and
+flank the enemy from below. This superbly audacious plan involved
+cutting loose from his base of supplies and all communications. He was
+obliged to whip two armies in detail,--Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi,
+and Pemberton in command at Vicksburg. This marvelous campaign was
+executed to the letter, and on the third day of July, Pemberton
+surrendered the largest body of troops ever captured on this continent
+up to that time, and Grant became the "man of destiny" of the army. All
+criticism was silenced. The world's markets rose and fell with his daily
+doings. Lincoln wrote him a letter of congratulation. The question of
+making "the prop-hauler of the Gravois" general-in-chief of all the
+armies of the United States was raised, and all the nation turned to him
+as the savior of the republic.
+
+He was made commander of all the armies of the Mississippi, and
+proceeded to Chattanooga to rescue Rosecrans and his beleaguered army.
+In a series of swift and dramatic battles he captured Lookout Mountain
+and Missionary Ridge. Wherever he went, victory seemed to follow. His
+calm demeanor never changed. He was bent on "whipping out the
+Rebellion." He was seen to be a warrior of a new sort. He was never
+malignant, or cruel, or ungenerous to his enemies; but he fought battles
+to win them, and the country now clamored for him to lead the armies of
+the Potomac against Lee, the great Southern general against whom no
+Northern general seemed able to prevail.
+
+Early in March of 1864, Hon. E. B. Washburne introduced into Congress a
+bill reviving the grade of Lieutenant-General. It was passed by both
+houses with some discussion, and Lincoln conferred the title and all it
+implied upon Grant. He called him to Washington, and placed the whole
+conduct of the war in his hands. "I don't want to know your plans," he
+said. Grant became absolutely chief in command, and set forth at once to
+direct the Army of the Potomac in person, and to encompass Lee as he had
+captured the armies of Buckner and Pemberton. His aim was not to whip
+Lee, but to destroy his army and end the war. He began an enormous
+encircling movement which never for one moment relaxed. The Army of the
+Potomac retreated no more. It had a commander who never knew when he was
+beaten.
+
+He fought one day in the Wilderness, sustaining enormous losses; but
+when the world expected retreat, he ordered an advance. He fought
+another day, and on the third day ordered an advance. Lincoln said, "At
+last I have a general." Grant never rested. After every battle he
+advanced, inexorably closing around Lee. It took him a year, but in the
+end he won. He captured Lee's army, and ended the war on the 9th of
+April, 1865. His terms with the captured general of the Southern forces
+were so chivalrous and generous that it gained for him the respect and
+even admiration of the Southern people. They could not forget that he
+was conqueror, but they acknowledged his greatness of heart. He had no
+petty revenges.
+
+Nothing in human history exceeds the contrasts in the life of Ulysses
+Grant. When Lee surrendered to him, he controlled a battle line from the
+Potomac to the Rio Grande, composed of a million men. His lightest
+command had almost inconceivable power; and yet he was the same man who
+had hauled wood in St. Louis and sold awls and shoe-pegs in Galena,--he
+had been developed by opportunity. Personally he remained simple to the
+point of inconspicuousness. His rusty blouse, his worn hat, his dusty
+boots, his low and modest voice, gave no indication of his exalted
+position and his enormous power. At the grand review of the armies in
+Washington in May, he sat with musing eyes while the victorious legions
+passed him, so unobtrusive in the throng that his troops could hardly
+distinguish his form and face; and when he returned to Galena, his old
+home, he carried no visible sign of the power and glory to which he had
+won his way step by step, by sheer power of doing things so well that
+other and greater duties were intrusted to his keeping.
+
+He presented a new type of soldier to the world. He was never vengeful,
+never angry in battle. When others swore and uttered ferocious cries,
+Grant remained master of himself and every faculty, uttering no oaths,
+giving his commands in full, clear, simple, dignified phrases. He hated
+conflict. He cared nothing for the pomp and circumstance of war; it was
+not glorious to him; and when it was all over he said, "I never want to
+see a soldier's uniform again."
+
+He was the chief citizen of the republic at the close of the war, and
+when Lincoln was assassinated he was the mainstay of the republic. Every
+eye was turned upon him, and his calmness was most salutary upon the
+nation. He became inevitably a candidate for President, and was elected
+with great enthusiasm in 1868. In 1872 he was re-elected, and during his
+two terms his one great purpose was to reconstruct the nation. He did
+all that he could to heal the scars of war. He stood between the
+malignants of the North and the helpless people of the South, always
+patient and sympathetic. His administrations ran in turbulent times, and
+corruption was abroad in official circles, but there is no evidence that
+he was touched by it. His administration was attacked; he was acquitted.
+
+In 1878, two years after his second term had ended, he went on a trip
+around the world, visiting all the great courts and kings of the leading
+nations. He received the most extraordinary honors ever tendered to one
+human being by his fellows, but he returned to Galena and to his boyhood
+home, the same good neighbor, just as democratic in his intercourse as
+ever. He never forgot a face, whether of the man who shod his horses or
+of the man who nominated him for President, though he looked upon more
+people than any other man in the history of the world.
+
+In 1880 he mistakenly became a candidate for a third term, and was
+defeated. Shortly after this he moved to New York City, and became a
+nominal partner in the firm of Grant & Ward. His name was used in the
+business; he had little connection with it, for he was growing old and
+failing in health.
+
+In May 1884, through the rascality of Ferdinand Ward, the firm failed,
+and General Grant lost every dollar he owned. Just before the crash, in
+the attempt to save the firm, he went to a wealthy friend and borrowed a
+large sum of money. After the failure the grim old commander turned over
+to his creditor every trophy, every present which had been given him by
+his foreign friends, even the jeweled favors of kings and queens and the
+swords presented to him by his fellow-citizens and by his soldiers; he
+reserved nothing. He became so poor that his pew rent became a burden,
+and the question of earning a living came to him with added force, for
+he was old and lame, and attacked by cancer of the tongue.
+
+Now came the most heroic year of his life. Suffering almost ceaseless
+pain, with the death shadow on him, he sat down to write his
+autobiography for the benefit of his wife. He complained not at all, and
+allowed nothing to stand in the way of his work. He wrote on steadily,
+up to the very day of his death, long after the power of speech was
+gone, revising his proofs, correcting his judgments of commanders as new
+evidence arose, and in the end producing a book which was a marvel of
+simple sincerity and modesty of statement, and of transparent clarity of
+style. It took rank at once as one of the great martial biographies of
+the world. It redeemed his name and gave his wife a competency. It was a
+greater deed than the taking of Vicksburg.
+
+In this final illness his thoughts dwelt much upon the differences
+between the North and the South. From Mt. McGregor, where he was taken
+in June 1885 to escape the heat of the city, he sent forth repeated
+messages of good-will to the South. In this hour the two mighty purposes
+of his life grew clearer in men's minds. He had put down the Rebellion,
+and from the moment of Lee's surrender had set himself the task of
+reuniting the severed nation. "Let us have peace," he said; and the
+saying had all the effect of a benediction.
+
+He died on July 23rd, 1885, at the age of sixty-three; and at his grave
+the North and the South stood side by side in friendship, and the great
+captains of opposing armies walked shoulder to shoulder, bearing his
+body to its final rest on the bank of the Hudson River. The world knew
+his faults, his mistakes, and his weaknesses; but they were all
+forgotten in the memory of his great deeds as a warrior, and of his
+gentleness, modesty, candor, and purity as a man. Since then it becomes
+increasingly more evident that he is to take his place as one of three
+or four figures of the first class in our national history. He was a man
+of action, and his deeds were of the kind which mark epochs in history.
+
+                                         [Signature: Hamlin Garland]
+
+
+
+EARLY LIFE
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
+
+
+In June 1821 my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah Simpson. I was
+born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point Pleasant, Clermont County,
+Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we moved to Georgetown, the county seat of
+Brown, the adjoining county east. This place remained my home until at
+the age of seventeen, in 1839, I went to West Point.
+
+The schools at the time of which I write were very indifferent. There
+were no free schools, and none in which the scholars were classified.
+They were all supported by subscription, and a single teacher--who was
+often a man or a woman incapable of teaching much, even if they imparted
+all they knew--would have thirty or forty scholars, male and female,
+from the infant learning the A B C's up to the young lady of eighteen
+and the boy of twenty, studying the highest branches taught--the three
+R's, "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic." I never saw an algebra or other
+mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in Georgetown, until after
+I was appointed to West Point. I then bought a work on algebra, in
+Cincinnati; but having no teacher, it was Greek to me.
+
+My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five or six until
+seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the village, except
+during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The former period was spent in
+Maysville, Kentucky, attending the school of Richardson and Rand; the
+latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a private school. I was not studious in
+habit, and probably did not make progress enough to compensate for the
+outlay for board and tuition. At all events, both winters were spent in
+going over the same old arithmetic which I knew every word of before,
+and repeating, "A noun is the name of a thing," which I had also heard
+my Georgetown teachers repeat until I had come to believe it--but I cast
+no reflections upon my old teacher Richardson. He turned out bright
+scholars from his school, many of whom have filled conspicuous places in
+the service of their States. Two of my contemporaries there--who I
+believe never attended any other institution of learning--have held
+seats in Congress, and one, if not both, other high offices; these are
+Wadsworth and Brewster.
+
+My father was from my earliest recollection in comfortable
+circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and the
+community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of facilities for
+acquiring an education, his greatest desire in maturer years was for the
+education of his children. Consequently, as stated before, I never
+missed a quarter from school, from the time I was old enough to attend
+till the time of leaving home. This did not exempt me from labor. In my
+early days every one labored more or less, in the region where my youth
+was spent, and more in proportion to their private means. It was only
+the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried on the
+manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself, he owned and
+tilled considerable land. I detested the trade, preferring almost any
+other labor; but I was fond of agriculture, and of all employment in
+which horses were used. We had, among other lands, fifty acres of forest
+within a mile of the village. In the fall of the year, choppers were
+employed to cut enough wood to last a twelvemonth. When I was seven or
+eight years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the house and
+shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that time; but I
+could drive, and the choppers would load, and some one at the house
+unload. When about eleven years old, I was strong enough to hold a plow.
+From that age until seventeen I did all the work done with horses, such
+as breaking up the land, furrowing, plowing corn and potatoes, bringing
+in the crops when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two
+or three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., while
+still attending school. For this I was compensated by the fact that
+there was never any scolding or punishing by my parents; no objection to
+rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going to the creek a mile away to
+swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my grandparents in the
+adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the ice in winter, or
+taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the ground.
+
+While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five miles away,
+several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky,--often,--and once
+Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big one for a boy of that
+day. I had also gone once with a two-horse carriage to Chillicothe,
+about seventy miles, with a neighbor's family who were removing to
+Toledo, Ohio, and returned alone; and had gone once in like manner to
+Flat Rock, Kentucky, about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I
+was fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr.
+Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours in
+Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse which I rather coveted; and
+proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him for one of the two I was
+driving. Payne hesitated to trade with a boy, but asking his brother
+about it, the latter told him that it would be all right; that I was
+allowed to do as I pleased with the horses. I was seventy miles from
+home, with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know
+that his horse had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched to
+a farm wagon, and we would soon see whether he would work. It was soon
+evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but he showed no
+viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I could manage him. A
+trade was at once struck, I receiving ten dollars difference.
+
+The next day, Mr. Payne of Georgetown and I started on our return. We
+got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered a ferocious dog
+that frightened the horses and made them run. The new animal kicked at
+every jump he made. I got the horses stopped, however, before any damage
+was done, and without running into anything. After giving them a little
+rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the new horse
+kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were on struck the
+turnpike within half a mile of the point where the second runaway
+commenced, and there was an embankment twenty or more feet deep on the
+opposite side of the pike. I got the horses stopped on the very brink of
+the precipice. My new horse was terribly frightened, and trembled like
+an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my companion Mr.
+Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on
+a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to start, my new
+horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma for a time. Once
+in Maysville, I could borrow a horse from an uncle who lived there; but
+I was more than a day's travel from that point. Finally I took out my
+bandanna--the style of handkerchief in universal use then--and with this
+blindfolded my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next
+day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I borrowed a horse
+from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded on our journey.
+
+About half my school days in Georgetown were spent at the school of John
+D. White, a North-Carolinian, and the father of Chilton White, who
+represented the district in Congress for one term during the Rebellion.
+Mr. White was always a Democrat in politics, and Chilton followed his
+father. He had two older brothers,--all three being schoolmates of mine
+at their father's school,--who did not go the same way. The second
+brother died before the Rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a
+Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave soldier during
+the Rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told of an earlier horse
+trade of mine. As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston living
+within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I very much
+wanted. My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted
+twenty-five. I was so anxious to have the colt, that after the owner
+left I begged to be allowed to take him at the price demanded. My father
+yielded, but said twenty dollars was all the horse was worth, and told
+me to offer that price; if it was not accepted I was to offer twenty-two
+and a half, and if that would not get him, to give the twenty-five. I at
+once mounted a horse and went for the colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston's
+house, I said to him, "Papa says I may offer you twenty dollars for the
+colt, but if you won't take that, I am to offer twenty-two and a half,
+and if you won't take that, to give you twenty-five." It would not
+require a Connecticut man to guess the price finally agreed upon. This
+story is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had come
+for the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over eight
+years old at the time. This transaction caused me great heart-burning.
+The story got out among the boys of the village, and it was a long time
+before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy the misery of their
+companions,--at least village boys in that day did, and in later life I
+have found that all adults are not free from the peculiarity. I kept the
+horse until he was four years old, when he went blind, and I sold him
+for twenty dollars. When I went to Maysville to school, in 1836, at the
+age of fourteen, I recognized my colt as one of the blind horses working
+on the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat.
+
+I have described enough of my early life to give an impression of the
+whole. I did not like to work; but I did as much of it, while young, as
+grown men can be hired to do in these days, and attended school at the
+same time. I had as many privileges as any boy in the village, and
+probably more than most of them. I have no recollection of ever having
+been punished at home, either by scolding or by the rod. But at school
+the case was different. The rod was freely used there, and I was not
+exempt from its influence. I can see John D. White, the school-teacher,
+now, with his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not always
+the same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles from a beech wood
+near the schoolhouse, by the boys for whose benefit they were intended.
+Often a whole bundle would be used up in a single day. I never had any
+hard feelings against my teacher, either while attending the school or
+in later years when reflecting upon my experience. Mr. White was a
+kind-hearted man, and was much respected by the community in which he
+lived. He only followed the universal custom of the period, and that
+under which he had received his own education....
+
+In the winter of 1838-9 I was attending school at Ripley, only ten miles
+distant from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays at home.
+During this vacation my father received a letter from the Honorable
+Thomas Morris, then United States Senator from Ohio. When he read it he
+said to me, "Ulysses, I believe you are going to receive the
+appointment." "What appointment?" I inquired.--"To West Point; I have
+applied for it." "But I won't go," I said. He said he thought I would,
+_and I thought so too, if he did_. I really had no objection to going to
+West Point, except that I had a very exalted idea of the acquirements
+necessary to get through. I did not believe I possessed them, and could
+not bear the idea of failing.
+
+
+
+GRANT'S COURTSHIP
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant.
+
+
+At West Point I had a classmate,--in the last year of our studies he was
+room-mate also,--F. T. Dent, whose family resided some five miles west
+of Jefferson Barracks. Two of his unmarried brothers were living at home
+at that time, and as I had taken with me from Ohio my horse, saddle, and
+bridle, I soon found my way out to White Haven, the name of the Dent
+estate. As I found the family congenial, my visits became frequent.
+There were at home, besides the young men, two daughters, one a
+school-miss of fifteen, the other a girl of eight or nine. There was
+still an older daughter of seventeen, who had been spending several
+years at a boarding-school in St. Louis, but who, though through school,
+had not yet returned home. She was spending the winter in the city with
+connections, the family of Colonel John O'Fallon, well known in St.
+Louis. In February she returned to her country home. After that I do not
+know but my visits became more frequent: they certainly did become more
+enjoyable. We would often take walks, or go on horseback to visit the
+neighbors, until I became quite well acquainted in that vicinity.
+Sometimes one of the brothers would accompany us, sometimes one of the
+younger sisters. If the 4th Infantry had remained at Jefferson Barracks
+it is possible, even probable, that this life might have continued for
+some years without my finding out that there was anything serious the
+matter with me; but in the following May a circumstance occurred which
+developed my sentiment so palpably that there was no mistaking it.
+
+The annexation of Texas was at this time the subject of violent
+discussion in Congress, in the press, and by individuals. The
+administration of President Tyler, then in power, was making the most
+strenuous efforts to effect the annexation, which was indeed the great
+and absorbing question of the day. During these discussions the greater
+part of the single rifle regiment in the army--the 2d Dragoons, which
+had been dismounted a year or two before, and designated "Dismounted
+Rifles"--was stationed at Fort Jessup, Louisiana, some twenty-five miles
+east of the Texas line, to observe the frontier. About the first of May
+the 3d Infantry was ordered from Jefferson Barracks to Louisiana, to go
+into camp in the neighborhood of Fort Jessup, and there await further
+orders. The troops were embarked on steamers, and were on their way down
+the Mississippi within a few days after the receipt of this order. About
+the time they started I obtained a leave of absence for twenty days to
+go to Ohio to visit my parents. I was obliged to go to St. Louis to take
+a steamer for Louisville or Cincinnati, or the first steamer going up
+the Ohio River to any point. Before I left St. Louis, orders were
+received at Jefferson Barracks for the 4th Infantry to follow the 3d. A
+messenger was sent after me to stop my leaving; but before he could
+reach me I was off, totally ignorant of these events. A day or two after
+my arrival at Bethel I received a letter from a classmate and fellow
+lieutenant in the 4th, informing me of the circumstances related above,
+and advising me not to open any letter postmarked St. Louis or Jefferson
+Barracks until the expiration of my leave, and saying that he would pack
+up my things and take them along for me. His advice was not necessary,
+for no other letter was sent to me. I now discovered that I was
+exceedingly anxious to get back to Jefferson Barracks, and I understood
+the reason without explanation from any one. My leave of absence
+required me to report for duty at Jefferson Barracks at the end of
+twenty days. I knew my regiment had gone up the Red River, but I was not
+disposed to break the letter of my leave; besides, if I had proceeded to
+Louisiana direct, I could not have reached there until after the
+expiration of my leave. Accordingly, at the end of the twenty days I
+reported for duty to Lieutenant Ewell, commanding at Jefferson Barracks,
+handing him at the same time my leave of absence. After noticing the
+phraseology of the order--leaves of absence were generally worded, "at
+the end of which time he will report for duty with his proper
+command"--he said he would give me an order to join my regiment in
+Louisiana. I then asked for a few days' leave before starting, which he
+readily granted. This was the same Ewell who acquired considerable
+reputation as a Confederate general during the Rebellion. He was a man
+much esteemed, and deservedly so, in the old army, and proved himself a
+gallant and efficient officer in two wars--both in my estimation unholy.
+
+I immediately procured a horse and started for the country, taking no
+baggage with me, of course. There is an insignificant creek, the
+Gravois, between Jefferson Barracks and the place to which I was going,
+and at that day there was not a bridge over it from its source to its
+mouth. There is not water enough in the creek at ordinary stages to run
+a coffee-mill, and at low water there is none running whatever. On this
+occasion it had been raining heavily, and when the creek was reached I
+found the banks full to overflowing, and the current rapid. I looked at
+it a moment to consider what to do. One of my superstitions had always
+been when I started to go anywhere, or do anything, not to turn back or
+stop until the thing intended was accomplished. I have frequently
+started to go to places where I had never been and to which I did not
+know the way, depending upon making inquiries on the road, and if I got
+past the place without knowing it, instead of turning back, I would go
+on until a road was found turning in the right direction, take that, and
+come in by the other side. So I struck into the stream, and in an
+instant the horse was swimming and I being carried down by the current.
+I headed the horse towards the other bank and soon reached it, wet
+through and without other clothes on that side of the stream. I went on,
+however, to my destination and borrowed a dry suit from my (future)
+brother-in-law. We were not of the same size, but the clothes answered
+every purpose until I got more of my own.
+
+Before I returned I mustered up courage to make known, in the most
+awkward manner imaginable, the discovery I had made on learning that the
+4th Infantry had been ordered away from Jefferson Barracks. The young
+lady afterwards admitted that she too, although until then she had never
+looked upon me other than as a visitor whose company was agreeable to
+her, had experienced a depression of spirits she could not account for
+when the regiment left. Before separating, it was definitely understood
+that at a convenient time we would join our fortunes, and not let the
+removal of a regiment trouble us. This was in May 1844. It was the 22d
+of August, 1848, before the fulfillment of this agreement. My duties
+kept me on the frontier of Louisiana with the Army of Observation during
+the pendency of Annexation; and afterwards I was absent through the war
+with Mexico provoked by the action of the army, if not by the annexation
+itself. During that time there was a constant correspondence between
+Miss Dent and myself, but we only met once in the period of four years
+and three months. In May 1845 I procured a leave for twenty days,
+visited St. Louis, and obtained the consent of the parents for the
+union, which had not been asked for before.
+
+
+
+A TEXAN EXPERIENCE
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
+
+
+I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever gone in
+search of game, and rarely seen any when looking for it. On this trip
+there was no minute of time while traveling between San Patricio and the
+settlements on the San Antonio River, from San Antonio to Austin, and
+again from the Colorado River back to San Patricio, when deer or
+antelope could not be seen in great numbers. Each officer carried a
+shotgun, and every evening after going into camp, some would go out and
+soon return with venison and wild turkeys enough for the entire camp. I
+however never went out, and had no occasion to fire my gun; except,
+being detained over a day at Goliad, Benjamin and I concluded to go down
+to the creek--which was fringed with timber, much of it the pecan--and
+bring back a few turkeys. We had scarcely reached the edge of the timber
+when I heard the flutter of wings overhead, and in an instant I saw two
+or three turkeys flying away. These were soon followed by more, then
+more and more, until a flock of twenty or thirty had left from just over
+my head. All this time I stood watching the turkeys to see where they
+flew, with my gun on my shoulder, and never once thought of leveling it
+at the birds. When I had time to reflect upon the matter, I came to the
+conclusion that as a sportsman I was a failure, and went back to the
+house. Benjamin remained out, and got as many turkeys as he wanted to
+carry back.
+
+After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to make the
+remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus Christi just in time
+to avoid "absence without leave." We met no one, not even an Indian,
+during the remainder of our journey, except at San Patricio. A new
+settlement had been started there in our absence of three weeks, induced
+possibly by the fact that there were houses already built, while the
+proximity of troops gave protection against the Indians. On the evening
+of the first day out from Goliad we heard the most unearthly howling of
+wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was tall and we could
+not see the beasts, but the sound indicated that they were near. To my
+ear it appeared that there must have been enough of them to devour our
+party, horses and all, at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed
+from was not thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before
+I left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less populated, where the wolf
+yet roamed over the prairies. He understood the nature of the animal,
+and the capacity of a few to make believe there was an unlimited number
+of them. He kept on towards the noise, unmoved. I followed in his trail,
+lacking moral courage to turn back and join our sick companion. I have
+no doubt that if Benjamin had proposed returning to Goliad, I would not
+only have "seconded the motion," but have suggested that it was very
+hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the first place; but
+Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak it was to ask,
+"Grant, how many wolves do you think there are in that pack?" Knowing
+where he was from, and suspecting that he thought I would overestimate
+the number, I determined to show my acquaintance with the animal by
+putting the estimate below what possibly could be correct, and answered,
+"Oh, about twenty," very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In a
+minute we were close upon them, and before they saw us. There were just
+_two_ of them. Seated upon their haunches, with their mouths close
+together, they had made all the noise we had been hearing for the past
+ten minutes. I have often thought of this incident since, when I have
+heard the noise of a few disappointed politicians who had deserted their
+associates. There are always more of them before they are counted.
+
+
+
+THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL LEE
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
+
+
+Wars produce many stories of fiction, some of which are told until they
+are believed to be true. The War of the Rebellion was no exception to
+this rule, and the story of the apple-tree is one of those fictions
+based on a slight foundation of fact. As I have said, there was an apple
+orchard on the side of the hill occupied by the Confederate forces.
+Running diagonally up the hill was a wagon road, which at one point ran
+very near one of the trees, so that the wheels of vehicles had on that
+side cut off the roots of this tree, leaving a little embankment.
+General Babcock, of my staff, reported to me that when he first met
+General Lee he was sitting upon this embankment with his feet in the
+road below and his back resting against the tree. The story had no other
+foundation than that. Like many other stories, it would be very good if
+it was only true.
+
+I had known General Lee in the old army, and had served with him in the
+Mexican War: but did not suppose, owing to the difference in our age and
+rank, that he would remember me; while I would more naturally remember
+him distinctly, because he was the chief of staff of General Scott in
+the Mexican War.
+
+When I had left camp that morning I had not expected so soon the result
+that was then taking place, and consequently was in rough garb. I was
+without a sword, as I usually was when on horseback on the field, and
+wore a soldier's blouse for a coat, with the shoulder-straps of my rank
+to indicate to the army who I was. When I went into the house I found
+General Lee. We greeted each other, and after shaking hands took our
+seats. I had my staff with me, a good portion of whom were in the room
+during the whole of the interview.
+
+What General Lee's feelings were I do not know. As he was a man of much
+dignity, with an impassible face, it was impossible to say whether he
+felt inwardly glad that the end had finally come, or felt sad over the
+result and was too manly to show it. Whatever his feelings, they were
+entirely concealed from my observation; but my own feelings, which had
+been quite jubilant on the receipt of his letter, were sad and
+depressed. I felt like anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of
+a foe who had fought so long and valiantly, and had suffered so much for
+a cause,--though that cause was, I believe, one of the worst for which a
+people ever fought, and one for which there was the least excuse. I do
+not question, however, the sincerity of the great mass of those who were
+opposed to us.
+
+General Lee was dressed in a full uniform which was entirely new, and
+was wearing a sword of considerable value, very likely the sword which
+had been presented by the State of Virginia; at all events, it was an
+entirely different sword from the one that would ordinarily be worn in
+the field. In my rough traveling suit, the uniform of a private with the
+straps of a lieutenant-general, I must have contrasted very strangely
+with a man so handsomely dressed, six feet high and of faultless form.
+But this was not a matter that I thought of until afterwards.
+
+We soon fell into a conversation about old army times. He remarked that
+he remembered me very well in the old army; and I told him that as a
+matter of course I remembered him perfectly, but from the difference in
+our rank and years (there being about sixteen years' difference in our
+ages), I had thought it very likely that I had not attracted his
+attention sufficiently to be remembered by him after such a long
+interval. Our conversation grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the
+object of our meeting. After the conversation had run on in this style
+for some time, General Lee called my attention to the object of our
+meeting, and said that he had asked for this interview for the purpose
+of getting from me the terms I proposed to give his army. I said that I
+meant merely that his army should lay down their arms, not to take them
+up again during the continuance of the war unless duly and properly
+exchanged. He said that he had so understood my letter.
+
+Then we gradually fell off again into conversation about matters foreign
+to the subject which had brought us together. This continued for some
+little time, when General Lee again interrupted the course of the
+conversation by suggesting that the terms I had proposed to give his
+army ought to be written out. I called to General Parker, secretary on
+my staff, for writing materials, and commenced writing out the following
+terms:--
+
+                         APPOMATTOX C. H., VA., April 9th, 1865.
+
+     _Gen. R. E. Lee, Comd'g C. S. A._
+
+     GEN.:--In accordance with the substance of my letter to you
+     of the 8th inst., I propose to receive the surrender of the
+     Army of N. Va. on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of all
+     the officers and men to be made in duplicate. One copy to be
+     given to an officer designated by me, the other to be
+     retained by such officer or officers as you may designate.
+     The officers to give their individual paroles not to take up
+     arms against the Government of the United States until
+     properly exchanged, and each company or regimental commander
+     sign a like parole for the men of their commands. The arms,
+     artillery, and public property to be parked and stacked, and
+     turned over to the officer appointed by me to receive them.
+     This will not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor
+     their private horses or baggage. This done, each officer and
+     man will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be
+     disturbed by United States authority so long as they observe
+     their paroles and the laws in force where they may reside.
+
+                    Very respectfully,
+
+                                                    U. S. GRANT,
+                                                    Lt. Gen.
+
+When I put my pen to the paper I did not know the first word that I
+should make use of in writing the terms. I only knew what was in my
+mind, and I wished to express it clearly, so that there could be no
+mistaking it. As I wrote on, the thought occurred to me that the
+officers had their own private horses and effects, which were important
+to them but of no value to us; also that it would be an unnecessary
+humiliation to call upon them to deliver their side-arms.
+
+No conversation, not one word, passed between General Lee and myself,
+either about private property, side-arms, or kindred subjects. He
+appeared to have no objections to the terms first proposed; or if he had
+a point to make against them, he wished to wait until they were in
+writing to make it. When he read over that part of the terms about
+side-arms, horses, and private property of the officers, he
+remarked--with some feeling, I thought--that this would have a happy
+effect upon his army.
+
+Then, after a little further conversation, General Lee remarked to me
+again that their army was organized a little diferently from the army of
+the United States (still maintaining by implication that we were two
+countries); that in their army the cavalrymen and artillerists owned
+their own horses: and he asked if he was to understand that the men who
+so owned their horses were to be permitted to retain them. I told him
+that as the terms were written they would not; that only the officers
+were permitted to take their private property. He then, after reading
+over the terms a second time, remarked that that was clear.
+
+I then said to him that I thought this would be about the last battle of
+the war--I sincerely hoped so; and I said further, I took it that most
+of the men in the ranks were small farmers. The whole country had been
+so raided by the two armies that it was doubtful whether they would be
+able to put in a crop to carry themselves and their families through the
+next winter without the aid of the horses they were then riding. The
+United States did not want them; and I would therefore instruct the
+officers I left behind to receive the paroles of his troops to let every
+man of the Confederate army who claimed to own a horse or mule take the
+animal to his home. Lee remarked again that this would have a happy
+effect.
+
+He then sat down and wrote out the following letter:--
+
+        HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA, April 9th, 1865.
+
+     GENERAL:--I received your letter of this date containing the
+     terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia as
+     proposed by you. As they are substantially the same as those
+     expressed in your letter of the 8th inst., they are accepted.
+     I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry the
+     stipulations into effect.
+
+                                                      R. E. LEE,
+                                                      General.
+
+        _Lieut.-General U. S. Grant._
+
+While duplicates of the two letters were being made, the Union generals
+present were severally presented to General Lee.
+
+The much-talked-of surrendering of Lee's sword and my handing it back,
+this and much more that has been said about it is the purest romance.
+The word sword or side-arms was not mentioned by either of us until I
+wrote it in the terms. There was no premeditation, and it did not occur
+to me until the moment I wrote it down. If I had happened to omit it,
+and General Lee had called my attention to it, I should have put it in
+the terms, precisely as I acceded to the provision about the soldiers
+retaining their horses.
+
+General Lee, after all was completed and before taking his leave,
+remarked that his army was in a very bad condition for want of food, and
+that they were without forage; that his men had been living for some
+days on parched corn exclusively, and that he would have to ask me for
+rations and forage. I told him "Certainly," and asked for how many men
+he wanted rations. His answer was "About twenty-five thousand"; and I
+authorized him to send his own commissary and quartermaster to
+Appomattox Station, two or three miles away, where he could have, out of
+the trains we had stopped, all the provisions wanted. As for forage, we
+had ourselves depended almost entirely upon the country for that.
+
+Generals Gibbon, Griffin, and Merritt were designated by me to carry
+into effect the paroling of Lee's troops before they should start for
+their homes,--General Lee leaving Generals Longstreet, Gordon, and
+Pendleton for them to confer with in order to facilitate this work. Lee
+and I then separated as cordially as we had met, he returning to his own
+lines, and all went into bivouac for the night at Appomattox.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY GRATTAN
+
+(1746-1820)
+
+[Illustration: HENRY GRATTAN]
+
+
+Henry Grattan, eminent among Irish orators and statesmen, was born in
+Dublin, July 3d, 1746. He graduated from Trinity College in 1767, became
+a law student of the Middle Temple, London, and was admitted to the bar
+in 1772. He soon became drawn into open political life, entering the
+Irish Parliament in 1775.
+
+In Parliament he espoused the popular cause. His memorable displays of
+oratory followed fast and plentifully. On April 19th, 1780, he attacked
+the right of England to legislate for Ireland. With that address his
+reputation was made. He became incessant in his efforts to remove
+oppressive legislation. By his eloquence he quickened into life a
+national spirit, to culminate in a convention at Dungannon on February
+15th, 1782, where resolutions in favor of legislative independence were
+stormily adopted. Presently, after a speech of surpassing power from
+him, the Declaration of Rights Bill was passed unanimously by both
+houses, with an unwilling enactment from England. The idol now of
+Ireland, Grattan was voted by its Parliament a grant of £50,000 "as a
+testimony of national gratitude for great national services." The next
+eighteen years saw him resolute to secure for Ireland liberal laws,
+greater commercial freedom, better conditions for the peasantry, the
+wiping out of Parliamentary corruption, and especially the absolute
+emancipation of the Roman Catholics. After the Union he lived in
+retirement, devoting himself to the study of the classics and to the
+education of his children until 1805. Then at the request of Fox he
+entered the imperial Parliament, making his first speech in favor of
+Fox's motion for a committee on the Roman Catholic Petition, an address
+described as "one of the most brilliant speeches ever made within the
+walls of Parliament." In 1806 he was elected a member for Dublin, which
+city he represented until his decease. His last speech was made on May
+5th, 1819, in favor of Roman Catholic emancipation. It is to be noted
+that he was by profession and conviction a Protestant. He died in 1820.
+He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the graves of Chatham and Fox.
+
+In spite of great natural drawbacks, Grattan achieved the highest rank
+as an orator; and his passionate eloquence has rarely been equaled in
+fervor and originality.
+
+
+
+ON THE CHARACTER OF CHATHAM
+
+
+The Secretary stood alone; modern degeneracy had not reached him.
+Original and unaccommodating, the features of his character had the
+hardihood of antiquity. His august mind overawed majesty; and one of his
+sovereigns thought royalty so impaired in his presence that he conspired
+to remove him, in order to be relieved from his superiority. No State
+chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar
+level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his
+object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he
+destroyed party; without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous.
+
+France sank beneath him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon,
+and wielded with the other the democracy of England. The sight of his
+mind was infinite; and his schemes were to affect, not England and the
+present age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were the means by
+which these schemes were accomplished; always seasonable, always
+adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated by order and
+enlightened by prophecy.
+
+The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indolent were
+unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness reached
+him; but aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its
+intercourse, he came occasionally into our system to counsel and to
+decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, and so
+authoritative astonished a corrupt age; and the treasury trembled at the
+name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined
+indeed that she had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of
+the ruin of his victories; but the history of his country and the
+calamities of the enemy refuted her.
+
+Nor were his political abilities his only talents: his eloquence was an
+era in the Senate; peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly expressing
+gigantic sentiments and instinctive wisdom; not like the torrent of
+Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully, it resembled
+sometimes the thunder and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did
+not, like Murray, conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety
+of argumentation, nor was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of
+exertion; but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point
+by flashings of the mind, which like those of his eye were felt but
+could not be followed.
+
+Upon the whole, there was something in this man that could create,
+subvert, or reform: an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to
+summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder and
+to rule the wilderness of free minds with unbounded authority; something
+that could establish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the
+world which should resound throughout the universe.
+
+
+
+OF THE INJUSTICE OF DISQUALIFICATION OF CATHOLICS
+
+From the Speech of May 31st, 1811
+
+
+Whatever belongs to the authority of God, or to the laws of nature, is
+necessarily beyond the province and sphere of human institution and
+government. The Roman Catholic, when you disqualify him on the ground of
+his religion, may with great justice tell you that you are not his God,
+that he cannot mold or fashion his faith by your decrees. You may
+inflict penalties, and he may suffer them in silence; but if Parliament
+assume the prerogative of Heaven, and enact laws to impose upon the
+people a different religion, the people will not obey such laws. If you
+pass an act to impose a tax or regulate a duty, the people can go to the
+roll to learn what are the provisions of the law. But whenever you take
+upon yourselves to legislate for God, though there may be truth in your
+enactments, you have no authority to enforce them. In such a case, the
+people will not go to the roll of Parliament, but to the Bible, the
+testament of God's will, to ascertain his law and their duty. When once
+man goes out of his sphere, and says he will legislate for God, he in
+fact makes himself God. But this I do not charge upon the Parliament,
+because in none of the Penal Acts has the Parliament imposed a
+religious creed. It is not to be traced in the qualification oath, nor
+in the declaration required. The qualifying oath, as to the great number
+of offices and seats in Parliament, scrupulously evades religious
+distinctions; a Dissenter of any class may take it, a Deist, an atheist,
+may likewise take it. The Catholics are alone excepted; and for what
+reason? Certainly not because the internal character of the Catholic
+religion is inherently vicious; not because it necessarily incapacitates
+those who profess it to make laws for their fellow-citizens. If a Deist
+be fit to sit in Parliament, it can hardly be urged that a Christian is
+unfit. If an atheist be competent to legislate for his country, surely
+this privilege cannot be denied to the believer in the divinity of our
+Savior. But let me ask you if you have forgotten what was the faith of
+your ancestors, or if you are prepared to assert that the men who
+procured your liberties are unfit to make your laws? Or do you forget
+the tempests by which the Dissenting classes of the community were at a
+former period agitated, or in what manner you fixed the rule of peace
+over that wild scene of anarchy and commotion? If we attend to the
+present condition and habits of these classes, do we not find their
+controversies subsisting in full vigor? and can it be said that their
+jarring sentiments and clashing interests are productive of any disorder
+in the State; or that the Methodist himself, in all his noisy
+familiarity with his Maker, is a dangerous or disloyal subject? Upon
+what principle can it be argued that the application of a similar policy
+would not conciliate the Catholics, and promote the general interests of
+the empire? I can trace the continuance of their incapacities to nothing
+else than a political combination; a combination that condemned the
+Catholic religion, not as a heresy, but as a symptom of a civil
+alienation. By this doctrine, the religion is not so much an evil in
+itself as a perpetual token of political disaffection. In the spirit of
+this liberal interpretation, you once decreed to take away their arms,
+and on another occasion ordered all Papists to be removed from London.
+In the whole subsequent course of administration, the religion has
+continued to be esteemed the infallible symptom of a propensity to
+rebel. Known or suspected Papists were once the objects of the severest
+jealousy and the bitterest enactments. Some of these statutes have been
+repealed, and the jealousy has since somewhat abated; but the same
+suspicions, although in a less degree, pervade your councils. Your
+imaginations are still infected with apprehensions of the proneness of
+the Catholics to make cause with a foreign foe. A treaty has lately been
+made with the King of the Two Sicilies. May I ask: Is his religion the
+evidence of the warmth of his attachment to your alliance? Does it enter
+into your calculation as one of the motives that must incline him to our
+friendship, in preference to the friendship of the State professing his
+own faith? A similar treaty has been recently entered into with the
+Prince Regent of Portugal, professing the Roman Catholic religion; and
+one million granted last year and two millions this session, for the
+defense of Portugal. Nay, even in the treaty with the Prince Regent of
+Portugal, there is an article which stipulates that we shall not make
+peace with France unless Portugal shall be restored to the house of
+Braganza. And has the Prince of Brazil's religion been considered
+evidence of his connection with the enemy? You have not one ally who is
+not Catholic; and will you continue to disqualify Irish Catholics, who
+fight with you and your allies, because their religion is evidence of
+disaffection?
+
+But if the Catholic religion be this evidence of repugnance, is
+Protestantism the proof of affection to the Crown and government of
+England? For an answer, let us look at America. In vain did you send
+your armies there; in vain did you appeal to the ties of common origin
+and common religion. America joined with France, and adopted a
+connection with a Catholic government. Turn to Prussia, and behold
+whether her religion has had any effect on her political character. Did
+the faith of Denmark prevent the attack on Copenhagen? It is admitted on
+all sides that the Catholics have demonstrated their allegiance in as
+strong a manner as the willing expenditure of blood and treasure can
+evince. And remember that the French go not near so far in their defense
+of Catholicism, as you in your hatred of it in your own subjects and
+your reverence for it in your allies. They have not scrupled to pull
+down the ancient fabrics of superstition in the countries subjected to
+their arms. Upon a review of these facts, I am justified in assuming
+that there is nothing inherent in Catholicism which either proves
+disaffection, or disqualifies for public trusts. The immediate inference
+is that they have as much right as any dissentient sect to the enjoyment
+of civil privileges and a participation of equal rights; that they are
+as fit morally and politically to hold offices in the State or seats in
+Parliament. Those who dispute the conclusion will find it their duty to
+controvert the reasoning on which it is founded. I do not believe the
+Church is in any danger; but if it is, I am sure that we are in a wrong
+way to secure it. If our laws will battle against Providence, there can
+be no doubt of the issue of the conflict between the ordinances of God
+and the decrees of man: transient must be the struggle, rapid the event.
+Let us suppose an extreme case, but applicable to the present point:
+Suppose the Thames were to inundate its banks, and suddenly swelling,
+enter this House during our deliberations (an event which I greatly
+deprecate, from my private friendship with many members who might happen
+to be present, and my sense of the great exertions which many of them
+have made for the public interest), and a motion of adjournment being
+made, should be opposed, and an address to Providence moved that it
+would be graciously pleased to turn back the overflow and direct the
+waters into another channel. This, it will be said, would be absurd; but
+consider whether you are acting upon a principle of greater intrinsic
+wisdom, when after provoking the resentments you arm and martialize the
+ambition of men, under the vain assurance that Providence will work a
+miracle in the constitution of human nature, and dispose it to pay
+injustice with affection, oppression with cordial support. This is in
+fact the true character of your expectations; nothing less than that the
+Author of the Universe should subvert his laws to ratify your statutes,
+and disturb the settled course of nature to confirm the weak, the base
+expedients of man. What says the Decalogue? Honor thy father. What says
+the penal law? Take away his estate! Again, says the Decalogue, Do not
+steal. The law, on the contrary, proclaims, You may rob a Catholic!
+
+
+
+ON THE DOWNFALL OF BONAPARTE
+
+From the Speech of May 25th, 1815
+
+
+The French government is war; it is a stratocracy, elective, aggressive,
+and predatory; her armies live to fight, and fight to live; their
+constitution is essentially war, and the object of that war the conquest
+of Europe. What such a person as Bonaparte at the head of such a
+constitution will do, you may judge by what he has done: and first he
+took possession of a greater part of Europe; he made his son King of
+Rome; he made his son-in-law Viceroy of Italy; he made his brother King
+of Holland; he made his brother-in-law King of Naples; he imprisoned the
+King of Spain; he banished the Regent of Portugal, and formed his plan
+to take possession of the Crown of England. England had checked his
+designs; her trident had stirred up his empire from its foundation. He
+complained of her tyranny at sea; but it was her power at sea which
+arrested his tyranny on land,--the navy of England saved Europe. Knowing
+this, he knew the conquest of England became necessary for the
+accomplishment of the conquest of Europe, and the destruction of her
+marine necessary for the conquest of England. Accordingly, besides
+raising an army of 60,000 men for the invasion of England, he applied
+himself to the destruction of her commerce, the foundation of her naval
+power. In pursuit of this object and on his plan of a Western empire, he
+conceived and in part executed the design of consigning to plunder and
+destruction the vast regions of Russia. He quits the genial clime of the
+temperate zone; he bursts through the narrow limits of an immense
+empire; he abandons comfort and security, and he hurries to the Pole to
+hazard them all, and with them the companions of his victories and the
+fame and fruits of his crimes and his talents, on speculation of leaving
+in Europe, throughout the whole of its extent, no one free or
+independent nation. To oppose this huge conception of mischief and
+despotism, the great potentate of the north from his gloomy recesses
+advances to defend himself against the voracity of ambition, amid the
+sterility of his empire. Ambition is omnivorous; it feasts on famine and
+sheds tons of blood, that it may starve in ice in order to commit a
+robbery on desolation. The power of the north, I say, joins another
+prince, whom Bonaparte had deprived of almost the whole of his
+authority,--the King of Prussia; and then another potentate, whom
+Bonaparte had deprived of the principal part of his dominions,--the
+Emperor of Austria. These three powers, physical causes, final justice,
+the influence of your victories in Spain and Portugal, and the spirit
+given to Europe by the achievements and renown of your great commander
+[the Duke of Wellington], together with the precipitation of his own
+ambition, combine to accomplish his destruction; Bonaparte is conquered.
+He who said, "I will be like the Most High," he who smote the nations
+with a continual stroke,--this short-lived son of the morning,
+Lucifer,--falls, and the earth is at rest; the phantom of royalty
+passes on to nothing, and the three kings to the gates of Paris: there
+they stand, the late victims of his ambition, and now the disposers of
+his destiny and the masters of his empire. Without provocation he had
+gone to their countries with fire and sword; with the greatest
+provocation they came to his country with life and liberty: they do an
+act unparalleled in the annals of history, such as nor envy, nor time,
+nor malice, nor prejudice, nor ingratitude can efface; they give to his
+subjects liberty, and to himself life and royalty. This is greater than
+conquest! The present race must confess their virtues, and ages to come
+must crown their monuments, and place them above heroes and kings in
+glory everlasting....
+
+Do you wish to confirm this military tyranny in the heart of Europe,--a
+tyranny founded on the triumph of the army over the principles of civil
+government, tending to universalize throughout Europe the domination of
+the sword,--and to reduce to paper and parchment, Magna Charta and all
+our civil constitutions? An experiment such as no country ever made and
+no good country would ever permit: to relax the moral and religious
+influences; to set heaven and earth adrift from one another, and make
+God Almighty a tolerated alien in his own creation; an insurrectionary
+hope to every bad man in the community, and a frightful lesson to profit
+and power, vested in those who have pandered their allegiance from king
+to emperor, and now found their pretensions to domination on the merit
+of breaking their oaths and deposing their sovereign. Should you do
+anything so monstrous as to leave your allies in order to confirm such a
+system; should you forget your name, forget your ancestors, and the
+inheritance they have left you of morality and renown; should you
+astonish Europe by quitting your allies to render immortal such a
+composition, would not the nations exclaim: "You have very providently
+watched over our interests, and very generously have you contributed to
+our service,--and do you falter now? In vain have you stopped in your
+own person the flying fortunes of Europe; in vain have you taken the
+eagle of Napoleon and snatched _invincibility_ from his standard, if
+now, when confederated Europe is ready to march, you take the lead in
+the desertion and preach the penitence of Bonaparte and the poverty of
+England."
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THOMAS GRAY.]
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS GRAY
+
+(1716-1771)
+
+BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
+
+
+The fame of Thomas Gray is unique among English poets, in that, although
+world-wide and luminous, it springs from a single poem, a flawless
+masterpiece,--the 'Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard.' This is the
+one production by which he is known to the great mass of readers and
+will continue to be known to coming generations; yet in his own time his
+other poems were important factors, in establishing the high repute
+accorded to him then and still maintained in the esteem of critics.
+Nevertheless, living to be nearly fifty-five and giving himself
+exclusively to letters, the whole of the work that he left behind him
+amounted only to some fourteen hundred lines.
+
+His value to literature and to posterity, therefore, is to be measured
+not by the quantity of his literary contributions or by any special
+variety in their scope, but by a certain wholesome and independent
+influence which he exerted upon the language of poetry, and by a rare
+quality of intense yet seemingly calm and almost repressed genius, which
+no one among his commentators has been able to define clearly. The most
+comprehensive thing ever written about him--wise, just, witty, yet
+sympathetic and penetrating--is the essay by James Russell Lowell in his
+final volume of criticism.
+
+     "It is the rarest thing," says Lowell, "to find genius and
+     dilettantism united in the same person (as for a time they
+     were in Goethe): for genius implies always a certain
+     fanaticism of temperament, which, if sometimes it seem
+     fitful, is yet capable of intense energy on occasion; while
+     the main characteristic of the dilettante is that sort of
+     impartiality which springs from inertia of mind, admirable
+     for observation, incapable of turning it to practical
+     account. Yet we have, I think, an example of this rare
+     combination of qualities in Gray; and it accounts both for
+     the kind of excellence to which he attained, and for the way
+     in which he disappointed expectation.... He is especially
+     interesting as an artist in words and phrases, a literary
+     type far less common among writers of English than it is in
+     France or Italy, where perhaps the traditions of Latin
+     culture were never wholly lost.... When so many have written
+     so much, we shall the more readily pardon the man who has
+     written too little or just enough."
+
+He was born in London, December 26th, 1716, the son of a money scrivener
+who had dissipated most of his inherited property, but was skilled in
+music, and perhaps transmitted to the son that musical element which
+gives beauty and strength to his poetry. Gray's mother was a woman of
+character, who with his aunt set up an India warehouse and supported
+herself; also sending the young man to St. Peter's College, Cambridge,
+after his studies at Eton. Leaving college without a degree, he traveled
+on the Continent of Europe with Horace Walpole in 1739; then returned to
+Cambridge and passed the remainder of his life in the university, as a
+bachelor of civil law nominally,--not practicing, but devoting himself
+to study and to excursions through rural England. He had a profound and
+passionate love for nature, a kind of religious exaltation in the
+contemplation of it and in mountain worship, which was at variance with
+the prevailing eighteenth-century literary mood and prefigured the
+feeling of Wordsworth. His mother having retired to Stoke Poges,
+Buckinghamshire, he often made visits there; and the church-yard of his
+deathless 'Elegy' is generally believed to be that of the parish church
+at Stoke Poges. It was here that he was laid to rest in the same tomb
+with his mother and his aunt, after his death, July 24th, 1771.
+
+The 'Elegy' was finished in 1749. He had begun writing it seven years
+before. This has sometimes been alluded to as an instance in point of
+Horace's advice, that a poem should be matured for seven years. The
+length of time given to the 'Elegy,' however, may be accounted for
+partly by Gray's dilatory habits of writing, and partly by the parallel
+of Tennyson's long delay in perfecting the utterance of his meditations
+on the death of his friend Hallam through 'In Memoriam.' Gray's dearest
+friend, Richard West, died in 1742; and it was apparently under the
+stress of that sorrow that he began the 'Elegy,' which was completed
+only in 1749. Two years later it was published. It won the popular heart
+immediately, and passed through four editions in the first twelvemonth.
+
+Of Gray's other poems, those which have left the deepest impression are
+his 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College,' 'The Progress of
+Poesy,' and 'The Bard.' The last two are somewhat Pindaric in style, but
+also suggest the influence of the Italian canzone. In the Eton College
+ode, his first published piece, occurs the phrase since grown
+proverbial, "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." It is a
+curious fact that while most readers know Gray only as the author of the
+'Elegy,' every one is familiar with certain lines coined by him, but
+unaware of their source. For instance, in 'The Progress of Poesy,' he
+speaks of
+
+  "The unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame."
+
+It is in the same place that he describes Milton as "blasted with excess
+of light," and in alluding to Dryden, evolves the image of
+
+  "Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."
+
+His, too, in 'The Bard,' is the now well-known line--
+
+  "Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm."
+
+Many of his finest expressions are in part derived from classic or other
+poets; but he showed undeniable genius in his adaptation,
+transformation, or new creation from these suggestive passages.
+
+Gray was small and delicate in person, handsome and refined, fond of
+fashionable dress, and preferred to be known as a "gentleman" rather
+than a poet. He was very reticent, somewhat melancholy, and an invalid;
+a man also of vast erudition, being learned not only in literature but
+in botany, zoology, antiquities, architecture, art, history, and
+philosophy as well. He enjoyed the distinction of refusing the post of
+poet laureate, after the death of Cibber. On the other hand, he coveted
+the place of professor of modern literature and languages at Cambridge
+University, to which he was appointed in 1769; but he never performed
+any of the duties of his professorship beyond that of drawing the
+salary.
+
+He brought forth nothing in the special kinds of knowledge which he had
+acquired in such large measure; and the actual ideas conveyed in his
+poetry were not original, but savored rather of the commonplace. Lowell
+says of the 'Elegy' that it won its popularity "not through any
+originality of thought, but far more through originality of sound."
+There must, however, be some deeper reason than this for the grasp which
+it has upon the minds and hearts of all classes. Two elements of power
+and popularity it certainly possessed in the highest degree. One is the
+singular simplicity of its language (a result of consummate art), which
+makes it understandable by everybody. The other is the depth and the
+sincerity of the emotion with which it imbues thoughts, sentiments, and
+reflections that are common to the whole of mankind. The very
+unproductiveness of Gray's mind in other directions probably helped this
+one product. The quintessence of all his learning, his perceptive
+faculty, and his meditations was infused into the life-blood of this
+immortal poem.
+
+                                 [Signature: George Parsons Lathrop]
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: _STOKE POGES CHURCH AND CHURCHYARD._
+  The burial-place of Thomas Gray and the scene of his famous Elegy.
+  Photogravure from a Photograph.]
+
+
+
+ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD
+
+
+  The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
+    The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
+  The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
+    And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
+
+  Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
+    And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
+  Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
+    And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
+
+  Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
+    The moping owl does to the moon complain
+  Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
+    Molest her ancient, solitary reign.
+
+  Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
+    Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap,
+  Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+    The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+  The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
+    The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
+  The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
+    No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
+
+  For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
+    Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
+  No children run to lisp their sire's return,
+    Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share
+
+  Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;
+    Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
+  How jocund did they drive their team afield!
+    How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
+
+  Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+    Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+  Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
+    The short and simple annals of the poor.
+
+  The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power,
+    And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+  Await alike th' inevitable hour:
+    The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
+
+  Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
+    If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
+  Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,
+    The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
+
+  Can storied urn or animated bust
+    Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
+  Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
+    Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?
+
+  Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
+    Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
+  Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
+    Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
+
+  But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
+    Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
+  Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
+    And froze the genial current of the soul.
+
+  Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+    The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
+  Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+    And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+  Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
+    The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
+  Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest;
+    Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
+
+  Th' applause of listening senates to command,
+    The threats of Pain and Ruin to despise,
+  To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
+    And read their history in a nation's eyes,--
+
+  Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone
+    Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
+  Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
+    And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;
+
+  The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide,
+    To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame,
+  Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+    With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
+
+  [The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow,
+    Exalt the brave, and idolize success;
+  But more to Innocence their safety owe,
+    Than Power and Genius e'er conspired to bless.]
+
+  [Hark, how the sacred calm that broods around
+    Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease,
+  In still, small accents whispering from the ground
+    A grateful earnest of eternal peace.]
+
+  Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
+    Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
+  Along the cool, sequestered vale of life
+    They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
+
+  Yet even these bones from insult to protect,
+    Some frail memorial, still erected nigh,
+  With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
+    Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
+
+  Their names, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,
+    The place of fame and elegy supply;
+  And many a holy text around she strews,
+    That teach the rustic moralist to die.
+
+  For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
+    This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
+  Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
+    Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
+
+  On some fond breast the parting soul relies;
+    Some pious drops the closing eye requires:
+  E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries;
+    E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
+
+  For thee who, mindful of th' unhonored dead,
+    Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
+  If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
+    Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
+
+  Haply some hoary-headed swain may say:--
+    "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
+  Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
+    To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
+
+  "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
+    That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
+  His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
+    And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
+
+  "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
+    Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;
+  Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
+    Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
+
+  "One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,
+    Along the heath, and near his favorite tree:
+  Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
+    Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he:
+
+  "The next, with dirges due in sad array,
+    Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne;--
+  Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
+    Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."
+
+  ["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year,
+    By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;
+  The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
+    And little footsteps lightly print the ground."]
+
+  THE EPITAPH
+
+  Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
+    A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;
+  Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
+    And Melancholy marked him for her own.
+
+  Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
+    Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
+  He gave to Misery all he had,--a tear;
+    He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
+
+  No farther seek his merits to disclose,
+    Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
+  (There they alike in trembling hope repose,)--
+    The Bosom of his Father and his God.
+
+    [The stanzas included in brackets were omitted by Gray in the
+    first edition of the 'Elegy,' and as sanctioned by him or by
+    later editors are (except as to the third one) of infrequent
+    appearance in the poem.]
+
+
+
+ODE ON THE SPRING
+
+
+  Lo! Where the rosy-bosomed Hours,
+    Fair Venus's train, appear,
+  Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
+    And wake the purple year!
+  The Attic warbler pours her throat,
+  Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
+    The untaught harmony of spring;
+  While, whispering pleasure as they fly,
+  Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky
+    Their gathered fragrance fling.
+
+  Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
+    A broader, browner shade,
+  Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
+    O'er-canopies the glade,
+  Beside some water's rushy brink
+  With me the Muse shall sit, and think
+    (At ease reclined in rustic state)
+  How vain the ardor of the crowd,
+  How low, how little are the proud,
+    How indigent the great!
+
+  Still is the toiling hand of Care;
+    The panting herds repose:
+  Yet hark! how through the peopled air
+    The busy murmur glows!
+  The insect-youth are on the wing,
+  Eager to taste the honeyed spring,
+    And float amid the liquid noon;
+  Some lightly o'er the current skim,
+  Some show their gayly gilded trim
+    Quick-glancing to the sun.
+
+  To Contemplation's sober eye
+    Such is the race of Man;
+  And they that creep, and they that fly,
+    Shall end where they began.
+  Alike the Busy and the Gay
+  But flutter through life's little day,
+    In Fortune's varying colors drest;
+  Brushed by the hand of rough Mischance,
+  Or chilled by Age, their airy dance
+    They leave, in dust to rest.
+
+  Methinks I hear, in accents low,
+    The sportive kind reply:
+  Poor moralist! and what art thou?
+    A solitary fly!
+  Thy joys no glittering female meets,
+  No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
+    No painted plumage to display:
+  On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
+  Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone--
+    We frolic while 'tis May.
+
+
+
+ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE
+
+
+  Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
+    That crown the watery glade,
+  Where grateful Science still adores
+    Her Henry's holy shade;
+  And ye, that from the stately brow
+  Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
+    Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
+  Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
+  Wanders the hoary Thames along
+    His silver-winding way!
+
+  Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
+    Ah, fields beloved in vain!
+  Where once my careless childhood strayed,
+    A stranger yet to pain!
+  I feel the gales that from ye blow
+  A momentary bliss bestow,
+    As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
+  My weary soul they seem to soothe,
+  And, redolent of joy and youth,
+    To breathe a second spring.
+
+  Say, Father Thames,--for thou hast seen
+    Full many a sprightly race
+  Disporting on thy margent green,
+    The paths of pleasure trace,--
+  Who foremost now delight to cleave
+  With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
+    The captive linnet which enthrall?
+  What idle progeny succeed
+  To chase the rolling circle's speed,
+    Or urge the flying ball?
+
+  While some, on earnest business bent,
+    Their murmuring labors ply
+  'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint
+    To sweeten liberty:
+  Some bold adventurers disdain
+  The limits of their little reign,
+    And unknown regions dare descry,
+  Still as they run they look behind,
+  They hear a voice in every wind,
+    And snatch a fearful joy.
+
+  Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
+    Less pleasing when possest;
+  The tear forgot as soon as shed,
+    The sunshine of the breast:
+  Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,
+  Wild wit, invention ever new,
+    And lively cheer, of vigor born;
+  The thoughtless day, the easy night,
+  The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
+    That fly th' approach of morn.
+
+  Alas! regardless of their doom,
+    The little victims play;
+  No sense have they of ills to come,
+    No care beyond to-day:
+  Yet see, how all around them wait
+  The ministers of human fate,
+    And black Misfortune's baleful train!
+  Ah, show them where in ambush stand,
+  To seize their prey, the murtherous band!
+    Ah! tell them they are men!
+
+  These shall the fury Passions tear,
+    The vultures of the mind,
+  Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
+    And Shame that skulks behind;
+  Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
+  Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
+    That inly gnaws the secret heart;
+  And Envy wan, and faded Care,
+  Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
+    And Sorrow's piercing dart.
+
+  Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
+    Then whirl the wretch from high,
+  To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
+    And grinning Infamy.
+  The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
+  And hard Unkindness's altered eye,
+    That mocks the tear it forced to flow;
+  And keen Remorse with blood defiled,
+  And moody Madness laughing wild
+    Amid severest woe.
+
+  Lo! in the vale of years beneath
+    A grisly troop are seen,--
+  The painful family of Death,
+    More hideous than their queen:
+  This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
+  That every laboring sinew strains,
+    Those in the deeper vitals rage:
+  Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,
+  That numbs the soul with icy hand,
+    And slow-consuming Age.
+
+  To each his sufferings: all are men,
+    Condemned alike to groan;
+  The tender for another's pain,
+    Th' unfeeling for his own.
+  Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,
+  Since sorrow never comes too late,
+    And happiness too swiftly flies?
+  Thought would destroy their Paradise.
+  No more: where ignorance is bliss,
+    'Tis folly to be wise.
+
+
+
+THE BARD
+
+A PINDARIC ODE
+
+
+        "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+      Confusion on thy banners wait!
+    Though fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,
+      They mock the air with idle state.
+        Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
+    Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+      To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,--
+        From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+    Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+      Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,
+    As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
+      He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+    Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
+  "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance.
+
+        On a rock, whose haughty brow
+    Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,
+        Robed in the sable garb of woe,
+    With haggard eyes the poet stood;
+        (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+    Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air;)
+    And with a master's hand and prophet's fire,
+      Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:
+    "Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave,
+      Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+    O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,
+      Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+    Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+  To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+          "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+        That hushed the stormy main;
+    Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed;
+        Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+          Modred, whose magic song
+    Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
+        On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,
+      Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:
+    Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;
+      The famished eagle screams, and passes by.
+    Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+      Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+    Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
+      Ye died amidst your dying country's cries.
+        No more I weep: they do not sleep;
+          On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
+        I see them sit; they linger yet,
+          Avengers of their native land;
+    With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+  And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+        "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
+      The winding-sheet of Edward's race;
+        Give ample room, and verge enough,
+      The characters of hell to trace;
+        Mark the year, and mark the night,
+      When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+  The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,
+          Shrieks of an agonizing King!
+      She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
+    That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+      From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+    The scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait!
+      Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,
+  And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+            "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+          Low on his funeral couch he lies!
+            No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+          A tear to grace his obsequies.
+            Is the sable warrior fled?
+  Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+  The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?
+          Gone to salute the rising morn.
+  Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
+      While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+  In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:
+      Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+    Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
+  That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+            "Fill high the sparkling bowl!
+              The rich repast prepare!
+  Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+              Close by the regal chair
+            Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
+  A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+            Heard ye the din of battle bray,
+          Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+  Long years of havoc urge their destined course,
+      And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+  Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
+      With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+  Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+      And spare the meek usurper's holy head.
+            Above, below, the rose of snow,
+          Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:
+            The bristled boar in infant-gore
+          Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+  Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
+  Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+            "Edward, lo! to sudden fate
+          (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+            Half of thy heart we consecrate.
+          (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+            Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
+    Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:
+    In yon bright track that fires the western skies,
+        They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+    But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+      Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+    Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
+      Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+    No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+  All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+          "Girt with many a baron bold,
+        Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+          And gorgeous dames and statesmen old
+        In bearded majesty appear.
+          In the midst a form divine!
+    Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line;
+    Her lion port, her awe-commanding face,
+          Attempered sweet to virgin grace.
+    What strings symphonious tremble in the air;
+      What strains of vocal transport round her play!
+    Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear!
+      They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+    Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
+  Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.
+
+            "The verse adorn again
+            Fierce war, and faithful love,
+    And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
+            In buskined measures move
+            Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+    With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+          A voice, as of the cherub choir,
+        Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+    And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+      That lost in long futurity expire.
+    Fond impious man, thinkest thou yon sanguine cloud,
+      Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
+    To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
+      And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+          Enough for me; with joy I see
+            The different doom our fates assign;
+          Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+            To triumph and to die are mine."
+    He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+  Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY
+
+BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS
+
+
+The greater monuments of Greece all men know, the incomparable peaks of
+the chain; and the chain lasted seventeen hundred years, nor ever sank
+to the dead level about. The steadfast sight of these great Greek
+originals warps and dwarfs our conception of Greek life. We behold the
+Parthenon; we forget that each village shrine had its sense of
+proportion and subtle curve. The Venus of Melos we remember, and the
+Victory is poised forever on its cliff; but Tanagra figurines tell as
+much, and reveal more, of Greek life. Nor is it otherwise in letters.
+The great names all know. For a brief span they stood close together,
+and the father who heard Æschylus might have told his experience to his
+long-lived son who read Aristotle, while between the two stood all the
+greatest genius that makes Greece Greek,--save only Homer. So brief was
+the noonday,--and it is at high noon, and high noon only, that men have
+agreed to take the sun; but this uplift was gained in the ascent of nigh
+two hundred years from the first written Greek literature that still
+lives. The descent, to the last of the Greek verse which still remained
+poetry, ran through thirteen centuries. Over all this prodigious span of
+fifteen hundred years stretches the Greek Anthology, a collection of
+4,063 short Greek poems, two to eight lines long for the most part,
+collected and re-collected through more than a thousand years. The first
+of these poets, Mimnermus, was the contemporary of Jeremiah, and dwelt
+in cities that shuddered over tidings of Babylonian invasion. The last,
+Cometas, was the contemporary of Edward the Confessor, and dreaded
+Seljuk and Turk.
+
+As the epic impulse faded, and before Greek genius for tragedy rose, the
+same race and dialect which had given epic narrative the proud, full
+verse that filled like a sail to zephyr and to storm alike, devised the
+elegiac couplet. With its opening even flow, its swifter rush in the
+second line, and its abrupt pause, it was a medium in which not
+narrative but man spoke, whether personal in passion, or impersonal in
+the dedication of a statue, or in epitaph. This verse had conventions as
+rigorous and restrained as the sonnet, and was briefer. It served as
+well for the epitaph of Thermopylæ as for the cradle-bier of a child,
+dead new-born; and lent itself as gracefully to the gift of a bunch of
+roses as it swelled with some sonorous blast of patriotism. It could
+sharpen to a gibe, or sink to a wail at untoward fate. Through a period
+twice as long as the life of English letters, these short poems set
+forth the vision of life, the ways and works of men, the love and death
+of mortals. These lines of weight, of moment, always of grace and often
+of inspiration, stood on milestones; they graced the base of statues;
+they were inscribed on tombs; they stood over doorways; they were
+painted on vases. The rustic shrines held them, and on the front of the
+great temple they were borne. In this form, friend wrote to friend and
+lover to lover. Four or five of the best express the emotion of the
+passing Greek traveler at the statue of Memnon on the Nile. The quality
+of verse that fills the inn album to-day we all know; but Greek life was
+so compact of form and thought that even this unknown traveler's verse,
+scrawled with a stylus, still thrills, still rings, as the statue still
+sounds its ancient note.
+
+In this long succession of short poems is delineated the Greek
+character, not of Athens but of the whole circle of the Mediterranean.
+The sphered life of the race is in its subjects. Each great Greek
+victory has its epigrams. In them, statues have an immortal life denied
+to marble and to bronze. The critical admiration of the Hellene for his
+great men of letters stands recorded here; his early love for the heroes
+of his brief-lived freedom, and his sedulous flattery of the Roman lords
+of his slavery. Here too is his domestic life, its joy and its sorrow.
+In this epigram, the maid dedicates her dolls to Artemis; and in that,
+the mother, mother and priestess both, lays down a life overflowing in
+good deeds and fruited with honorable offspring. The splendid side of
+Greek life is painted elsewhere. Here is its homely simplicity. The
+fisher again spreads his nets and the sailor his peaked lateen sail. The
+hunter sets his snares and tracks his game in the light snow. The caged
+partridge stretches its weary wings in its cage, and the cat has for it
+a modern appetite. Men gibe and jest. They see how hollow life is, and
+also how truth rings true. Love is here, sacred and revered, in forms
+pure and holy; and not less, that foul pool decked with beauty in which
+Greek manhood lost its masculine virtue.
+
+Half a century before Christ, when Greek life overspread the eastern
+Mediterranean, and in every market-place Greek was the tongue of trade,
+of learning, and of gentle breeding, Greek letters grew conscious of its
+own riches. For six centuries and more, or as long as separates us from
+Chaucer, men had been writing these brief epigrams. The first had the
+brevity of Simonides, the next Alexandrian luxuriance. Many were carved
+by those who wrote much; more by those who composed but two or three. In
+Syrian Gadara there dwelt a Greek, Meleager, whose poetry is the very
+flower of fervent Greek verse. Yet so near did he live to the great
+change which was to overturn the gods he loved, and substitute morality
+for beauty as the mainspring of life, that some who knew him must also,
+a brief span of years later, have known Jesus the Christ. Meleager was
+the first who gathered Greek epigrams in an Anthology, prefacing it with
+such apt critical utterance as has been the despair of all critics
+called since to weigh verse in ruder scales and with a poise less
+perfect. He had the wide round of the best of Greek to pick from, and he
+chose with unerring taste. To his collection Philippus of Thessalonica,
+working when Paul was preaching in Jason's house, added the work of the
+Roman period, the fourth development of the epigram. Other collections
+between have perished, one in the third or Byzantine period, in which
+this verse had a renaissance under Justinian. In the tenth century a
+Byzantine scholar, Constantinos Cephalas, rearranged his predecessors'
+collections,--Meleager's included,--and brought together the largest
+number which has come down to us. The collection is known to-day as the
+'Palatine Anthology,' from the library which long owned it. His work was
+in the last flare of life in the Lower Empire, when Greek heroism, for
+the last time, stemmed the Moslem tide and gave Eastern Europe
+breathing-space. When his successor Maximus Planudes, of the century of
+Petrarch,--monk, diplomat, theologian, and phrase-maker,--addressed
+himself to the last collection made, the shadow of new Italy lay over
+Greek life, and the Galilean had recast the minds of men. He excluded
+much that Greeks, from Meleager to Cephalas, had freely admitted, and
+which modern lovers of the Anthology would be willing to see left out of
+all copies but their own. The collection of Planudes long remained alone
+known (first edition Florence, 1594). That of Cephalas survived in a
+single manuscript of varied fortune, seen in 1606 by Salmasius at
+eighteen,--happy boy, and happy manuscript!--lost to learning for a
+century and a half in the Vatican, published by Brunck, 1776, and
+finally edited by Frederic Jacobs, 1794-1803, five volumes of text and
+three of comment, usually bound in eight. The text has been republished
+by Tauchnitz, and the whole work has its most convenient and familiar
+form for scholars in the edition of both the collections of Planudes and
+Cephalas, with epigrams from all other sources prepared by Frederic
+Dübner for Didot's 'Bibliotheca Scriptorum Græcorum,' 1864-1872, three
+volumes. The Anthology as a whole has no adequate English translation.
+About one-third of the poems have a prose translation by George Burges
+in the 'Greek Anthology,' 1832, of Bohn's series, with versions in verse
+by many hands.
+
+The first English translation of selections appeared anonymously, 1791.
+Others have succeeded: Robert Bland and John Herman Merivale, 1806;
+Robert Bland, 1813; Richard Garnett, 1864; Sir Edwin Arnold, 1869; John
+Addington Symonds, 1873; J.W. Mackail, 1890; Lilla Cabot Perry, 1891. A
+collection of selected translations edited by Graham R. Tomson was
+published in 1889. Of these partial versions, the only one which
+approaches the incommunicable charm of the original is Mr. Mackail's, an
+incomparable translation. His versions are freely used in the selections
+which follow. All the metrical versions, except those by Mrs. Perry, are
+from Miss Tomson's collection. But no translation equals the sanity, the
+brevity, the clarity of the Greek original, qualities which have made
+these epigrams consummate models of style to the modern world. In all
+the round of literature, the only exact analogue of the Greek epigram is
+the Japanese "ode," with its thirty syllables, its single idea, and its
+constant use of all classes as an universal medium of familiar poetic
+expression. Of like nature, used alike for epigraph, epitaph, and
+familiar personal expression, is the rhymed Arabic Makotta, brief poems
+written in one form for eighteen hundred years, and still written.
+
+                                       [Signature: TALCOTT WILLIAMS]
+
+
+ON THE ATHENIAN DEAD AT PLATÆA
+
+SIMONIDES (556-467 B.C.)
+
+If to die nobly is the chief part of excellence, to us out of all men
+Fortune gave this lot; for hastening to set a crown of freedom on
+Greece, we lie possessed of praise that grows not old.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ON THE LACEDÆMONIAN DEAD AT PLATÆA
+
+SIMONIDES
+
+These men, having set a crown of imperishable glory on their own land,
+were folded in the dark clouds of death; yet being dead they have not
+died, since from on high their excellence raises them gloriously out of
+the house of Hades.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ON A SLEEPING SATYR
+
+PLATO (429-347 B. C.)
+
+This satyr Diodorus engraved not, but laid to rest; your touch will wake
+him; the silver is asleep.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A POET'S EPITAPH
+
+SIMMIAS OF THEBES (405 B.C.)
+
+  Quietly, o'er the tomb of Sophocles,
+  Quietly, ivy, creep with tendrils green;
+  And roses, ope your petals everywhere,
+  While dewy shoots of grape-vine peep between,
+  Upon the wise and honeyed poet's grave,
+  Whom Muse and Grace their richest treasures gave.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+WORSHIP IN SPRING
+
+THEÆTETUS (Fourth Century B. C.)
+
+Now at her fruitful birth-tide the fair green field flowers out in
+blowing roses; now on the boughs of the colonnaded cypresses the cicala,
+mad with music, lulls the binder of sheaves; and the careful mother
+swallow, having finished houses under the eaves, gives harborage to her
+brood in the mud-plastered cells; and the sea slumbers, with
+zephyr-wooing calm spread clear over the broad ship-tracks, not breaking
+in squalls on the stemposts, not vomiting foam upon the beaches. O
+sailor, burn by the altars the glittering round of a mullet, or a
+cuttle-fish, or a vocal scarus, to Priapus, ruler of ocean and giver of
+anchorage; and so go fearlessly on thy seafaring to the bounds of the
+Ionian Sea.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+SPRING ON THE COAST
+
+LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM (Third Century B. C.)
+
+Now is the season of sailing; for already the chattering swallow is
+come, and the gracious west wind; the meadows flower, and the sea,
+tossed up with waves and rough blasts, has sunk to silence. Weigh thine
+anchors and unloose thine hawsers, O mariner, and sail with all thy
+canvas set: this I, Priapus of the harbor, bid thee, O man, that thou
+mayest set forth to all thy trafficking.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A YOUNG HERO'S EPITAPH.
+
+DIOSCORIDES (Third Century B. C.)
+
+Home to Petana comes Thrasybulus lifeless on his shield, seven Argive
+wounds before. His bleeding boy the father Tynnichos lays on the pyre,
+to say:--"Let your wounds weep. Tearless I bury you, my boy--mine and my
+country's."
+
+                                    Translation of Talcott Williams.
+
+
+LOVE
+
+POSIDIPPUS (Third Century B. C.)
+
+Jar of Athens, drip the dewy juice of wine, drip, let the feast to which
+all bring their share be wetted as with dew; be silenced the swan-sage
+Zeno, and the Muse of Cleanthes, and let bitter-sweet Love be our
+concern.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+SORROW'S BARREN GRAVE
+
+HERACLEITUS (Third Century B. C.)
+
+  Keep off, keep off thy hand, O husbandman,
+  Nor through this grave's calm dust thy plowshare drive;
+  These very sods have once been mourned upon,
+  And on such ground no crop will ever thrive,
+  Nor corn spring up with green and feathery ears,
+  From earth that has been watered by such tears.
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+TO A COY MAIDEN
+
+ASCLEPIADES (286 B.C.)
+
+  Believe me love, it is not good
+  To hoard a mortal maidenhood;
+  In Hades thou wilt never find,
+  Maiden, a lover to thy mind;
+  Love's for the living! presently
+  Ashes and dust in death are we!
+
+                                         Translation of Andrew Lang.
+
+
+THE EMPTIED QUIVER
+
+MNESALCUS (Second Century B.C.)
+
+This bending bow and emptied quiver, Promachus hangs as a gift to thee,
+Phoebus. The swift shafts men's hearts hold, whom they called to death
+in the battle's rout.
+
+                                    Translation of Talcott Williams.
+
+
+THE TALE OF TROY
+
+ALPHEUS (First Century B.C.)
+
+Still we hear the wail of Andromache, still we see all Troy toppling
+from her foundations, and the battling Ajax, and Hector, bound to the
+horses, dragged under the city's crown of towers,--through the Muse of
+Mæonides, the poet with whom no one country adorns herself as her own,
+but the zones of both worlds.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+HEAVEN HATH ITS STARS
+
+MARCUS ARGENTARIUS (First Century B.C.)
+
+  Feasting, I watch with westward-looking eye
+  The flashing constellations' pageantry,
+  Solemn and splendid; then anon I wreathe
+  My hair, and warbling to my harp I breathe
+  My full heart forth, and know the heavens look down
+  Pleased, for they also have their Lyre and Crown.
+
+                                     Translation of Richard Garnett.
+
+
+PAN OF THE SEA-CLIFF
+
+ARCHIAS (First Century B.C.)
+
+Me, Pan, the fishermen placed upon this holy cliff,--Pan of the
+sea-shore, the watcher here over the fair anchorages of the harbor: and
+I take care now of the baskets and again of the trawlers off this shore.
+But sail thou by, O stranger, and in requital of this good service of
+theirs I will send behind thee a gentle south wind.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ANACREON'S GRAVE
+
+ANTIPATER OF SIDON (First Century B.C.)
+
+O stranger who passeth by the humble tomb of Anacreon, if thou hast had
+aught of good from my books, pour libation on my ashes, pour libation of
+the jocund grape, that my bones may rejoice, wetted with wine; so I, who
+was ever deep in the wine-steeped revels of Dionysus, I who was bred
+among drinking-tunes, shall not even when dead endure without Bacchus
+this place to which the generation of mortals must come.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+REST AT NOON
+
+MELEAGER (First Century B.C.)
+
+Voiceful cricket, drunken with drops of dew, thou playest thy rustic
+music that murmurs in the solitude, and perched on the leaf edges
+shrillest thy lyre-tune with serrated legs and swart skin. But, my dear,
+utter a new song for the tree-nymphs' delight, and make thy harp-notes
+echo to Pan's, that escaping Love I may seek out sleep at noon, here,
+lying under the shady plane.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+"IN THE SPRING A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY"
+
+MELEAGER
+
+  Now the white iris blossoms, and the rain-loving narcissus,
+    And now again the lily, the mountain-roaming, blows.
+  Now too, the flower of lovers, the crown of all the springtime,
+    Zenophila the winsome, doth blossom with the rose.
+  O meadows, wherefore vainly in your radiant garlands laugh ye?
+    Since fairer is the maiden than any flower that grows!
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+MELEAGER'S OWN EPITAPH
+
+MELEAGER
+
+Tread softly, O stranger; for here an old man sleeps among the holy
+dead, lulled in the slumber due to all; Meleager son of Eucrates, who
+united Love of the sweet tears and the Muses with the joyous Graces;
+whom god-begotten Tyre brought to manhood, and the sacred land of
+Gadara, but lovely Cos nursed in old age among the Meropes. But if thou
+art a Syrian, say "Salam," and if a Phoenician, "Naidios," and if a
+Greek, "Hail": they are the same.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+PHILODEMUS (60 B.C.)
+
+I was in love once; who has not been? I have reveled; who is uninitiated
+in revels? Nay, I was mad; at whose prompting but a god's? Let them go;
+for now the silver hair is fast replacing the black, a messenger of
+wisdom that comes with age. We too played when the time of playing was;
+and now that it is no longer, we will turn to worthier thoughts.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+DOCTOR AND DIVINITY
+
+NICARCHUS
+
+Marcus the doctor called yesterday on the marble Zeus; though marble,
+and though Zeus, his funeral is to-day.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+LOVE'S IMMORTALITY
+
+STRATO (First Century A.D.)
+
+Who may know if a loved one passes the prime, while ever with him and
+never left alone? Who may not satisfy to-day who satisfied yesterday?
+and if he satisfy, what should befall him not to satisfy to-morrow?
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+AS THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD
+
+STRATO
+
+If thou boast in thy beauty, know that the rose too blooms, but quickly
+being withered, is cast on the dunghill; for blossom and beauty have the
+same time allotted to them, and both together envious time withers away.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+SUMMER SAILING
+
+ANTIPHILUS (First Century A.D.)
+
+Mine be a mattress on the poop, and the awnings over it, sounding with
+the blows of the spray, and the fire forcing its way out of the
+hearthstones, and a pot upon them with empty turmoil of bubbles; and let
+me see the boy dressing the meat, and my table be a ship's plank covered
+with a cloth; and a game of pitch-and-toss, and the boatswain's whistle:
+the other day I had such fortune, for I love common life.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE GREAT MYSTERIES
+
+CRINAGORAS (First Century A.D.)
+
+Though thy life be fixed in one seat, and thou sailest not the sea nor
+treadest the roads on dry land, yet by all means go to Attica, that thou
+mayest see those great nights of the worship of Demeter; whereby thou
+shalt possess thy soul without care among the living, and lighter when
+thou must go to the place that awaiteth all.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+TO PRIAPUS OF THE SHORE
+
+MÆCIUS (Roman period)
+
+Priapus of the sea-shore, the trawlers lay before thee these gifts by
+the grace of thine aid from the promontory, having imprisoned a tunny
+shoal in their nets of spun hemp in the green sea entrances: a beechen
+cup, and a rude stool of heath, and a glass cup holding wine, that thou
+mayest rest thy foot, weary and cramped with dancing, while thou chasest
+away the dry thirst.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE COMMON LOT
+
+AMMIANUS (Second Century A.D.)
+
+Though thou pass beyond thy landmarks even to the pillars of Heracles,
+the share of earth that is equal to all men awaits thee, and thou shalt
+lie even as Irus, having nothing more than thine obelus moldering into a
+land that at last is not thine.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+"TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW"
+
+MACEDONIUS (Third Century A.D.)
+
+"To-morrow I will look on thee,"--but that never comes for us, while the
+accustomed putting-off ever grows and grows. This is all thy grace to my
+longing; and to others thou bearest other gifts, despising my faithful
+service. "I will see thee at evening." And what is the evening of a
+woman's life?--old age, full of a million wrinkles.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE PALACE GARDEN
+
+ARABIUS (527-567 A.D.)
+
+I am filled with waters, and gardens, and groves, and vineyards, and the
+joyousness of the bordering sea; and fisherman and farmer from different
+sides stretch forth to me the pleasant gifts of sea and land: and them
+who abide in me, either a bird singing or the sweet cry of the ferrymen
+lulls to rest.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE YOUNG WIFE
+
+JULIANUS ÆGYPTIUS (532 A.D.)
+
+In season the bride-chamber held thee, out of season the grave took
+thee, O Anastasia, flower of the blithe Graces; for thee a father, for
+thee a husband pours bitter tears; for thee haply even the ferryman of
+the dead weeps; for not a whole year didst thou accomplish beside thine
+husband, but at sixteen years old, alas! the tomb holds thee.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A NAMELESS GRAVE
+
+PAULUS SILENTIARIUS
+
+  My name, my country, what are they to thee?
+  What, whether proud or bare my pedigree?
+  Perhaps I far surpassed all other men;
+  Perhaps I fell below them all. What then?
+  Suffice it, stranger, that thou seest a tomb.
+  Thou knowest its use. It hides--no matter whom.
+
+                                      Translation of William Cowper.
+
+
+RESIGNATION
+
+JOANNES BARBUCALLUS (Sixth Century A.D.)
+
+Gazing upon my husband as my last thread was spun, I praised the gods
+of death, and I praised the gods of marriage,--those, that I left my
+husband alive, and these, that he was even such an one; but may he
+remain, a father for our children.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE HOUSE OF THE RIGHTEOUS
+
+MACEDONIUS (Sixth Century A.D.)
+
+Righteousness has raised this house from the first foundation even to
+the lofty roof; for Macedonius fashioned not his wealth by heaping up
+from the possessions of others with plundering sword, nor has any poor
+man here wept over his vain and profitless toil, being robbed of his
+most just hire; and as rest from labor is kept inviolate by the just
+man, so let the works of pious mortals endure.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+LOVE'S FERRIAGE
+
+AGATHIAS (527-565 A.D.)
+
+  Since she was watched and could not kiss me closely,
+    Divine Rhodanthe cast her maiden zone
+  From off her waist, and holding it thus loosely
+    By the one end, she put a kiss thereon;
+  Then I--Love's stream as through a channel taking--
+    My lips upon the other end did press
+  And drew the kisses in, while ceaseless making,
+    Thus from afar, reply to her caress.
+  So the sweet girdle did beguile our pain,
+    Being a ferry for our kisses twain.
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+[The following are undetermined in date.]
+
+
+ON A FOWLER
+
+ISIDORUS
+
+  With reeds and bird-lime from the desert air
+  Eumelus gathered free though scanty fare.
+  No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kiss,
+  Nor luxury knew, save liberty, nor bliss.
+  Thrice thirty years he lived, and to his heirs
+  His reeds bequeathed, his bird-lime, and his snares.
+
+                                      Translation of William Cowper.
+
+
+YOUTH AND RICHES
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+I was young, but poor; now in old age I am rich: alas, alone of all men
+pitiable in both, who then could enjoy when I had nothing, and now have
+when I cannot enjoy.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE SINGING REED
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+I the reed was a useless plant; for out of me grow not figs, nor apple,
+nor grape cluster: but man consecrated me a daughter of Helicon,
+piercing my delicate lips and making me the channel of a narrow stream;
+and thenceforth whenever I sip black drink, like one inspired I speak
+all words with this voiceless mouth.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+FIRST LOVE AGAIN REMEMBERED
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+  While yet the grapes were green thou didst refuse me;
+    When they were ripe, didst proudly pass me by:
+  But do not grudge me still a single cluster,
+    Now that the grapes are withering and dry.
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+SLAVE AND PHILOSOPHER
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+  I Epictetus was a slave while here,
+  Deformed in body, and like Irus poor,
+  Yet to the gods immortal I was dear.
+
+              Translation of Lilla Cabot Perry, by permission of the
+              American Publishers' Corporation.
+
+
+GOOD-BY TO CHILDHOOD
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Her tambourines and pretty ball, and the net that confined her hair, and
+her dolls and dolls' dresses, Timareta dedicates before her marriage to
+Artemis of Limnæ,--a maiden to a maiden, as is fit; do thou, daughter of
+Leto, laying thine hand over the girl Timareta, preserve her purely in
+her purity.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+WISHING
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+  It's oh! to be a wild wind, when my lady's in the sun:
+  She'd just unbind her neckerchief, and take me breathing in.
+
+  It's oh! to be a red rose, just a faintly blushing one,
+  So she'd pull me with her hand, and to her snowy breast I'd win.
+
+                                 Translation of William M. Hardinge.
+
+
+HOPE AND EXPERIENCE
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Whoso has married once and seeks a second wedding, is a shipwrecked man
+who sails twice through a difficult gulf.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE SERVICE OF GOD
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Me, Chelidon, priestess of Zeus, who knew well in old age how to make
+offering on the altars of the immortals, happy in my children, free from
+grief, the tomb holds; for with no shadow in their eyes the gods saw my
+piety.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE PURE IN HEART
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+He who enters the incense-filled temple must be holy; and holiness is to
+have a pure mind.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE WATER OF PURITY
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Hallowed in soul, O stranger, come even into the precinct of a pure god,
+touching thyself with the virgin water: for the good a few drops are
+set; but a wicked man the whole ocean cannot wash in its waters.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ROSE AND THORN
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+The rose is at her prime a little while; which once past, thou wilt find
+when thou seekest, no rose, but a thorn.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A LIFE'S WANDERING
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Know ye the flowery fields of the Cappadocian nation? Thence I was born
+of good parents: since I left them I have wandered to the sunset and the
+dawn; my name was Glaphyrus, and like my mind. I lived out my sixtieth
+year in perfect freedom; I know both the favor of fortune and the
+bitterness of life.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
+
+2. Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest
+paragraph break. Also the footnotes have been moved to the end of the
+paragraph/poem in which they are referred.
+
+3. Some selections for Richard Watson Gilder are different from those
+mentioned in the Table of Contents.
+
+4. The frontispiece "The Alexander Romance" and the photogravure "The
+Bride's Toilet" mentioned in the "Full-Page Illustrations" list are
+missing.
+
+5. The words Coeli, Phoenician, Phoenicians, Phoebus, coenæque, Soeur
+and POENITENTIUM use "oe" ligature in the original.
+
+6. The original text includes Greek characters. For this etext version
+these letters have been replaced with transliterations.
+
+7. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies
+in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been
+retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library of the World's Best
+Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 ***
+
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+
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+
+
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Library Of The World's Best Literature Ancient And Modern, Vol. XVI.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Library of the World's Best Literature,
+Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles Dudley Warner
+
+Release Date: September 3, 2010 [EBook #33624]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2>LIBRARY OF THE</h2>
+<h1>WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE</h1>
+<h3>ANCIENT AND MODERN<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER</h3>
+<h5>EDITOR</h5>
+
+<h4>HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE<br />
+LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE<br />
+GEORGE HENRY WARNER</h4>
+<h5>ASSOCIATE EDITORS</h5>
+
+<h4>Connoisseur Edition<br />
+<span class="smcap">Vol. XVI.</span></h4>
+
+<h4>NEW YORK<br />
+<big>THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY</big></h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>Connoisseur Edition</h3>
+<h5>LIMITED TO FIVE HUNDRED COPIES IN HALF RUSSIA<br />
+<br />
+<i>No</i>.    ..........</h5>
+
+<h5>Copyright, 1896, by<br />
+R. S. PEALE AND J. A. HILL<br />
+<i>All rights reserved</i></h5>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE ADVISORY COUNCIL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>
+CRAWFORD H. TOY, A. M., LL. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Hebrew, <span class="smcap">Harvard University</span>, Cambridge, Mass.</span><br />
+<br />
+THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL. D., L. H. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School of <span class="smcap">Yale University</span>, New Haven, Conn.</span><br />
+<br />
+WILLIAM M. SLOANE, <span class="smcap">Ph. D.</span>, L. H. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of History and Political Science, <span class="smcap">Princeton University</span>, Princeton, N. J.</span><br />
+<br />
+BRANDER MATTHEWS, A. M., LL. B.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Literature, <span class="smcap">Columbia University</span>, New York City.</span><br />
+<br />
+JAMES B. ANGELL, LL. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">President of the <span class="smcap">University of Michigan</span>, Ann Arbor, Mich.</span><br />
+<br />
+WILLARD FISKE, A. M., <span class="smcap">Ph. D.</span>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages and Literatures, <span class="smcap">Cornell University</span>, Ithaca, N. Y.</span><br />
+<br />
+EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A. M., LL. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Director of the Lick Observatory, and Astronomer, <span class="smcap">University of California</span>, Berkeley, Cal.</span><br />
+<br />
+ALC&Eacute;E FORTIER, LIT. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of the Romance Languages, <span class="smcap">Tulane University</span>, New Orleans, La.</span><br />
+<br />
+WILLIAM P. TRENT, M. A.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dean of the Department of Arts and Sciences, and Professor of English and History, <span class="smcap">University of the South</span>, Sewanee, Tenn.</span><br />
+<br />
+PAUL SHOREY, <span class="smcap">Ph. D.</span>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Greek and Latin Literature, <span class="smcap">University of Chicago</span>, Chicago, Ill.</span><br />
+<br />
+WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">United States Commissioner of Education, <span class="smcap">Bureau of Education</span>, Washington, D. C.</span><br />
+<br />
+MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A. M., LL. D.,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Literature in the <span class="smcap">Catholic University of America</span>, Washington, D. C.</span><br />
+</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<h3>VOL. XVI</h3>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td><small>LIVED</small></td>
+  <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#AULUS_GELLIUS"><span class="smcap">Aulus Gellius</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>Second Century A.D.</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">6253</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_ATTIC_NIGHTS">From 'Attic Nights':</a> Origin, and Plan of the Book; The Vestal Virgins; The Secrets of the Senate; Plutarch and his Slave; Discussion on One of Solon's Laws; The Nature of Sight; Earliest Libraries; Realistic Acting; The Athlete's End</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#GESTA_ROMANORUM"><span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">6261</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THEODOSIUS_THE_EMPEROUREA">Theodosius the Emperoure</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Moralite</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ANCELMUS_THE_EMPEROURA">Ancelmus the Emperour</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Moralite</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#HOW_AN_ANCHORESS_WAS_TEMPTED_BY_THE_DEVIL">How an Anchoress was Tempted by the Devil</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#EDWARD_GIBBON"><span class="smcap">Edward Gibbon</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1737-1794</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">6271</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY W. E. H. LECKY</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ZENOBIA">Zenobia</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FOUNDATION_OF_CONSTANTINOPLE">Foundation of Constantinople</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CHARACTER_OF_CONSTANTINE">Character of Constantine</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DEATH_OF_JULIAN">Death of Julian</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_FALL_OF_ROME">Fall of Rome</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SILK">Silk</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MAHOMETS_DEATH_AND_CHARACTER">Mahomet's Death and Character</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ALEXANDRIAN_LIBRARY">The Alexandrian Library</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_FINAL_RUIN_OF_ROME">Final Ruin of Rome</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">All from the 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT"><span class="smcap">William Schwenck Gilbert</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1836-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">6333</a><span class='pagenum'>[Pg vi]</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CAPTAIN_REECE">Captain Reece</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_YARN_OF_THE_NANCY_BELL">The Yarn of the Nancy Bell</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_BISHOP_OF_RUM-TI-FOO">The Bishop of Rum-ti-foo</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#GENTLE_ALICE_BROWN">Gentle Alice Brown</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CAPTAIN_AND_THE_MERMAIDS">The Captain and the Mermaids</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">All from the 'Bab Ballads'</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER"><span class="smcap">Richard Watson Gilder</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1844-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">6347</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TWO_SONGS_FROM_THE_NEW_DAY">Two Songs from 'The New Day'</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DARK_THE_SOLEMN_SUNSET">"Rose-Dark the Solemn Sunset"</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Celestial Passion</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#NON_SINE_DOLORE">Non Sine Dolore</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_THE_LIFEMASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN">On the Life Mask of Abraham Lincoln</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#AMERICA">From 'The Great Remembrance'</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI"><span class="smcap">Giuseppe Giusti</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1809-1850</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">6355</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#LULLABY">Lullaby ('Gingillino')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_STEAM-GUILLOTINE">The Steam Guillotine</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#WILLIAM_EWART_GLADSTONE"><span class="smcap">William Ewart Gladstone</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1809-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">6359</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MACAULAY">Macaulay ('Gleanings of Past Years')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN"><span class="smcap">Edwin Lawrence Godkin</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1831-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">6373</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_DUTY_OF_CRITICISM_IN_A_DEMOCRACY">The Duty of Criticism in a Democracy ('Problems of Modern Democracy')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#GOETHE"><span class="smcap">Goethe</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1749-1832</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">6385</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY EDWARD DOWDEN</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_FAUST">From 'Faust,' Shelley's Translation</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SCENES_FROM_FAUST">Scenes from 'Faust', Bayard Taylor's Translation</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MIGNONS_LOVE_AND_LONGING">Mignon's Love and Longing ('Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#WILHELM_MEISTERS_INTRODUCTION_TO_SHAKESPEARE">Wilhelm Meister's Introduction to Shakespeare (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#WILHELM_MEISTERS_ANALYSIS_OF_HAMLET">Wilhelm Meister's Analysis of Hamlet (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_INDENTURE">The Indenture (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_HARPERS_SONGS">The Harper's Songs (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MIGNONS_SONG">Mignon's Song (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PHILINAS_SONG">Philina's Song (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PROMETHEUS">Prometheus</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#WANDERERS_NIGHT_SONGS">Wanderer's Night Songs</a></span></td><td><span class='pagenum'>[Pg vii]</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ELFIN-KING">The Elfin-King</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_THE_WANDERERS_STORM_SONG">From 'The Wanderer's Storm Song'</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_GODLIKE">The Godlike</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SOLITUDE">Solitude</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ERGO">Ergo Bibamus!</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ALEXIS_AND_DORA">Alexis and Dora</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MAXIMS">Maxims and Reflections</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#NATURE">Nature</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#GOGOL"><span class="smcap">Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1809-1852</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">6455</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_THE_INSPECTOR">From 'The Inspector'</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#OLD-FASHIONED_GENTRY">Old-Fashioned Gentry ('Mirgorod')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#CARLO_GOLDONI"><span class="smcap">Carlo Goldoni</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1707-1793</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">6475</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FIRST_LOVE_AND_PARTING">First Love and Parting ('Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ORIGIN_OF_MASKS_IN_THE_ITALIAN_COMEDY">The Origin of Masks in the Italian Comedy (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PURISTS_AND_PEDANTRY">Purists and Pedantry (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_POETS_OLD_AGE">A Poet's Old Age (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CAFE">The Caf&eacute;</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT"><span class="smcap">Me&iuml;r Aaron Goldschmidt</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1819-1887</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_265">6493</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ASSAR_AND_MIRJAM">Assar and Mirjam ('Love Stories from Many Countries')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"><span class="smcap">Oliver Goldsmith</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1728-1774</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">6501</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_VICARS_FAMILY_BECOME_AMBITIOUS">The Vicar's Family Become Ambitious ('The Vicar of Wakefield')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#NEW_MISFORTUNES_BUT_OFFENSES_ARE_EASILY_PARDONED">New Misfortunes: But Offenses are Easily Pardoned Where There is Love at Bottom (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PICTURES_FROM_THE_DESERTED_VILLAGE">Pictures from 'The Deserted Village'</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CONTRASTED_NATIONAL_TYPES">Contrasted National Types ('The Traveller')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF"><span class="smcap">Ivan Aleksandrovitch Gonchar&oacute;f</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1812-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_307">6533</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#OBLOMOF">Obl&oacute;mof</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT"><span class="smcap">The Brothers De Goncourt</span></a></big><span class='pagenum'>[Pg viii]</span></td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_323">6549</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">Edmond </td>
+  <td>1822-1896</td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">Jules </td>
+  <td>1830-1870</td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TWO_FAMOUS_MEN">Two Famous Men ('Journal of the De Goncourts')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_SUICIDE">The Suicide ('Sister Philom&egrave;ne')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_AWAKENING">The Awakening ('Ren&eacute;e Mauperin')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#EDMUND_GOSSE"><span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1849-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_339">6565</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FEBRUARY_IN_ROME">February in Rome</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DESIDERIUM">Desiderium</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#LYING_IN_THE_GRASS">Lying in the Grass</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL"><span class="smcap">Rudolf von Gottschall</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1823-</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_345">6571</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#HEINRICH_HEINE">Heinrich Heine ('Portraits and Studies')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#JOHN_GOWER"><span class="smcap">John Gower</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1325?-1408</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_353">6579</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PETRONELLA">Petronella ('Confessio Amantis')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#ULYSSES_S_GRANT"><span class="smcap">Ulysses S. Grant</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1822-1885</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_369">6593</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY HAMLIN GARLAND</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#EARLY_LIFE">Early Life ('Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant')</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#GRANTS_COURTSHIP">Grant's Courtship (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_TEXAN_EXPERIENCE">A Texan Experience (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_SURRENDER_OF_GENERAL_LEE">The Surrender of General Lee (same)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#HENRY_GRATTAN"><span class="smcap">Henry Grattan</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1746-1820</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_391">6615</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_THE_CHARACTER_OF_CHATHAM">On the Character of Chatham</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#OF_THE_INJUSTICE_OF_DISQUALIFICATION_OF_CATHOLICS">Of the Injustice of Disqualification of Catholics (Speech in Parliament)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_THE_DOWNFALL_OF_BONAPARTE">On the Downfall of Bonaparte (Speech in Parliament)</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#THOMAS_GRAY"><span class="smcap">Thomas Gray</span></a></big></td>
+  <td>1716-1771</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_401">6623</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ELEGY_WRITTEN_IN_A_COUNTRY_CHURCH-YARD">Elegy Written in a Country Church-yard</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ODE_ON_THE_SPRING">Ode on the Spring</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_A_DISTANT_PROSPECT_OF_ETON_COLLEGE">On a Distant Prospect of Eton College</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_BARD">The Bard</a></span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><big><a href="#THE_GREEK_ANTHOLOGY"><span class="smcap">The Greek Anthology</span></a></big><span class='pagenum'>[Pg ix]</span></td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_417">6637</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the Athenian Dead at Plat&aelig;a (Simonides); On the
+Laced&aelig;monian Dead at Plat&aelig;a (Simonides); On a Sleeping Satyr (Plato); A Poet's Epitaph (Simmias of
+Thebes); Worship in Spring (The&aelig;tetus); Spring on the Coast (Leonidas of Tarentum); A Young Hero's
+Epitaph (Dioscorides); Love (Posidippus); Sorrow's Barren Grave (Heracleitus); To a Coy Maiden (Asclepiades);
+The Emptied Quiver (Mnesalcus); the Tale of Troy (Alpheus); Heaven Hath its Stars (Marcus
+Argentarius); Pan of the Sea-Cliff (Archias); Anacreon's Grave (Antipater of Sidon); Rest at Noon
+(Meleager); "In the Spring a Young Man's Fancy" (Meleager); Meleager's Own Epitaph (Meleager); Epilogue
+(Philodemus); Doctor and Divinity (Nicarchus); Love's Immortality (Strato); As the Flowers of the
+Field (Strato); Summer Sailing (Antiphilus); The Great Mysteries (Crinagoras); To Priapus of the Shore
+(M&aelig;cius); The Common Lot (Ammianus); "To-morrow, and To-morrow" (Macedonius); The Palace Garden
+(Arabius); The Young Wife (Julianus &AElig;gyptius); A Nameless Grave (Paulus Silentiarius); Resignation
+(Joannes Barbucallus); The House of the Righteous (Macedonius); Love's Ferriage (Agathias); On a Fowler
+(Isidorus). Anonymous: Youth and Riches; The Singing Reed; First Love again Remembered; Slave and
+Philosopher; Good-by to Childhood; Wishing; Hope and Experience; The Service of God; The Pure in
+Heart; The Water of Purity; Rose and Thorn; A Life's Wandering</span></td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p>
+<h2>FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<h3>VOLUME XVI</h3>
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="ILLUSTRATIONS" width="60%">
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>The Alexander Romance (Colored Plate)</td>
+  <td align="right">Frontispiece</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GIBBON">Gibbon (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">6271</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#RUINED_ROME">Ruined Rome (Photograph)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">6316</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GLADSTONE">Gladstone (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">6359</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GOETHE1">Goethe (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">6385</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#PRISON">"Faust and Margaret in Prison" (Photogravure)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_176">6408</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>"The Bride's Toilet" (Photogravure)</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_236">6466</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GOLDONI">Goldoni (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">6475</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GOLDSMITH">Goldsmith (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">6501</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GRANT">Grant (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_369">6593</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GRAY">Gray (Portrait)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_401">6623</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#CHURCH">"Stoke Poges Church and Churchyard" (Photogravure)</a></td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#Page_404">6626</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h3>VIGNETTE PORTRAITS</h3>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="PORTRAITS" width="60%">
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT">Gilbert</a></td>
+  <td><a href="#IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF">Goncharof</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER">Gilder</a></td>
+  <td><a href="#THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT">De Goncourt</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI">Giusti</a></td>
+  <td><a href="#RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL">Gottschall</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN">Godkin</a></td>
+  <td><a href="#JOHN_GOWER">Gower</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#GOGOL">Gogol</a></td>
+  <td><a href="#HENRY_GRATTAN">Grattan</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT">Goldschmidt</a></td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 6253]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="AULUS_GELLIUS" id="AULUS_GELLIUS"></a>AULUS GELLIUS</h2>
+
+<h4>(<span class="smcap">Second Century A. D.</span>)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capp.png" width="90" height="91" alt="P" title="P" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">erhaps Gellius's 'Attic Nights' may claim especial mention
+here, as one of the earliest extant forerunners of this
+'Library.' In the original preface (given first among the
+citations), Gellius explains very clearly the origin and scope of his
+work. It is not, however, a mere scrap-book. There is original matter
+in many chapters. In particular, an ethical or philosophic excerpt
+has often been framed in a little scene,&mdash;doubtless imaginary,&mdash;and
+cast in the form of a dialogue. We get, even, pleasant glimpses of
+autobiography from time to time. The author is not, however, a
+deep or forceful character, on the whole. His heart is mostly set on
+trifles.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Gellius has been an assiduous student, both in Greece and
+Italy; and his book gives us an agreeable, probably an adequate,
+view of the fields which are included in the general culture of his
+time. Despite its title, the work is chiefly Roman. In history, biography,
+antiquities, grammar, literary criticism, his materials and authors
+are prevailingly Latin. He is perhaps most widely known and
+quoted on early Roman life and usages. Thus, one of his chapters
+gives a mass of curious information as to the choice of the Vestal
+Virgins. We are also largely indebted to him for citations from lost
+authors. We have already quoted under Ennius the sketch, in eighteen
+hexameters, of a scholar-soldier, believed to be a genial self-portraiture.
+These lines are the finest specimen we have of the
+'Annales.' Similarly, under Cato, we have quoted the chief fragment
+of the great Censor's Roman history. For both these treasures we
+must thank Gellius. Indeed, throughout the wide fields of Roman
+antiquities, history of literature, grammar, etc., we have to depend
+chiefly upon various late Latin scrap-books and compilations, most of
+which are not even made up at first hand from creative classical authors.
+To Gellius, also, the imposing array of writers so constantly
+named by him was evidently known chiefly through compendiums
+and handbooks. It is suspicious, for instance, that he hardly quotes
+a poet within a century of his own time. Repetitions, contradictions,
+etc., are numerous.</p>
+
+<p>Despite its twenty "books" and nearly four hundred (short) chapters,
+the work is not only light and readable for the most part, but
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 6254]</a></span>
+quite modest in total bulk: five hundred and fifty pages in the small
+page and generous type of Hertz's Teubner text. There is an English
+translation by Rev. W. Beloe, first printed in 1795, from which
+we quote below. Professor Nettleship's (in his 'Essays in Latin Literature')
+has no literary quality, but gives a careful analysis of Gellius's
+subjects and probable sources. There is a revival of interest
+in this author in recent years. We decidedly recommend Hertz's attractive
+volume to any Latin student who wishes to browse beyond
+the narrow classical limits.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FROM_ATTIC_NIGHTS" id="FROM_ATTIC_NIGHTS"></a>FROM 'ATTIC NIGHTS'</h3>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Origin and Plan of the Book</span></h3>
+
+<p>More pleasing works than the present may certainly be found:
+my object in writing this was to provide my children, as
+well as myself, with that kind of amusement in which
+they might properly relax and indulge themselves at the intervals
+from more important business. I have preserved the same
+accidental arrangement which I had before used in making the
+collection. Whatever book came into my hand, whether it was
+Greek or Latin, or whatever I heard that was either worthy of
+being recorded or agreeable to my fancy, I wrote down without
+distinction and without order. These things I treasured up to
+aid my memory, as it were by a store-house of learning; so that
+when I wanted to refer to any particular circumstance or word
+which I had at the moment forgotten, and the books from which
+they were taken happened not to be at hand, I could easily find
+and apply it. Thus the same irregularity will appear in these
+commentaries as existed in the original annotations, which were
+concisely written down without any method or arrangement in
+the course of what I at different times had heard or read. As
+these observations at first constituted my business and my amusement
+through many long winter nights which I spent in Attica,
+I have given them the name of 'Attic Nights.' ... It is an
+old proverb, "A jay has no concern with music, nor a hog with
+perfumes:" but that the ill-humor and invidiousness of certain
+ill-taught people may be still more exasperated, I shall borrow a
+few verses from a chorus of Aristophanes; and what he, a man
+of most exquisite humor, proposed as a law to the spectators of
+his play, I also recommend to the readers of this volume, that
+the vulgar and unhallowed herd, who are averse to the sports of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 6255]</a></span>
+the Muses, may not touch nor even approach it. The verses are
+these:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silent be they, and far from hence remove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By scenes like ours not likely to improve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who never paid the honored Muse her rights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who senseless live in wild, impure delights;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I bid them once, I bid them twice begone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I bid them thrice, in still a louder tone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far hence depart, whilst ye with dance and song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our solemn feast, our tuneful nights prolong.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Vestal Virgins</span></h3>
+
+<p>The writers on the subject of taking a Vestal Virgin, of
+whom Labeo Antistius is the most elaborate, have asserted that
+no one could be taken who was less than six or more than
+ten years old. Neither could she be taken unless both her
+father and mother were alive, if she had any defect of voice or
+hearing, or indeed any personal blemish, or if she herself or
+father had been made free; or if under the protection of her
+grandfather, her father being alive; if one or both of her parents
+were in actual servitude, or employed in mean occupations. She
+whose sister was in this character might plead exemption, as
+might she whose father was flamen, augur, one of the fifteen
+who had care of the sacred books, or one of the seventeen who
+regulated the sacred feasts, or a priest of Mars. Exemption was
+also granted to her who was betrothed to a pontiff, and to the
+daughter of the sacred trumpeter. Capito Ateius has also observed
+that the daughter of a man was ineligible who had no
+establishment in Italy, and that his daughter might be excused
+who had three children. But as soon as a Vestal Virgin is taken,
+conducted to the vestibule of Vesta, and delivered to the pontiffs,
+she is from that moment removed from her father's authority,
+without any form of emancipation or loss of rank, and has also
+the right of making her will. No more ancient records remain
+concerning the form and ceremony of taking a virgin, except that
+the first virgin was taken by King Numa. But we find a Papian
+law which provides that at the will of the supreme pontiff twenty
+virgins should be chosen from the people; that these should draw
+lots in the public assembly; and that the supreme pontiff might
+take her whose lot it was, to become the servant of Vesta. But
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 6256]</a></span>
+this drawing of lots by the Papian law does not now seem necessary;
+for if any person of ingenuous birth goes to the pontiff
+and offers his daughter for this ministry, if she may be accepted
+without any violation of what the ceremonies of religion enjoin,
+the Senate dispenses with the Papian law. Moreover, a virgin is
+said to be taken, because she is taken by the hand of the high
+priest from that parent under whose authority she is, and led
+away as a captive in war. In the first book of Fabius Pictor, we
+have the form of words which the supreme pontiff is to repeat
+when he takes a virgin. It is this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I take thee, beloved, as a priestess of Vesta, to perform
+religious service, to discharge those duties with respect to the
+whole body of the Roman people which the law most wisely
+requires of a priestess of Vesta."</p>
+
+<p>It is also said in those commentaries of Labeo which he wrote
+on the Twelve Tables:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"No Vestal Virgin can be heiress to any intestate person of
+either sex. Such effects are said to belong to the public. It is
+inquired by what right this is done?" When taken she is called
+<i>amata</i>, or beloved, by the high priest; because Amata is said to
+have been the name of her who was first taken.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Secrets of the Senate</span></h3>
+
+<p>It was formerly usual for the senators of Rome to enter
+the Senate-house accompanied by their sons who had taken the
+pr&aelig;texta. When something of superior importance was discussed
+in the Senate, and the further consideration adjourned to the day
+following, it was resolved that no one should divulge the subject
+of their debates till it should be formally decreed. The mother
+of the young Papirius, who had accompanied his father to the
+Senate-house, inquired of her son what the senators had been
+doing. The youth replied that he had been enjoined silence, and
+was not at liberty to say. The woman became more anxious to
+know; the secretness of the thing, and the silence of the youth,
+did but inflame her curiosity. She therefore urged him with
+more vehement earnestness. The young man, on the importunity
+of his mother, determined on a humorous and pleasant fallacy:
+he said it was discussed in the Senate, which would be most
+beneficial to the State&mdash;for one man to have two wives, or for
+one woman to have two husbands. As soon as she heard this
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 6257]</a></span>
+she was much agitated, and leaving her house in great trepidation,
+went to tell the other matrons what she had learned. The
+next day a troop of matrons went to the Senate-house, and with
+tears and entreaties implored that one woman might be suffered
+to have two husbands, rather than one man to have two wives.
+The senators on entering the house were astonished, and wondered
+what this intemperate proceeding of the women, and their
+petition, could mean. The young Papirius, advancing to the
+midst of the Senate, explained the pressing importunity of his
+mother, his answer, and the matter as it was. The Senate,
+delighted with the honor and ingenuity of the youth, made a
+decree that from that time no youth should be suffered to enter
+the Senate with his father, this Papirius alone excepted.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Plutarch and His Slave</span></h3>
+
+<p>Plutarch once ordered a slave, who was an impudent and
+worthless fellow, but who had paid some attention to books and
+philosophical disputations, to be stripped (I know not for what
+fault) and whipped. As soon as his punishment began, he averred
+that he did not deserve to be beaten; that he had been guilty of
+no offense or crime. As they went on whipping him, he called
+out louder, not with any cry of suffering or complaint, but gravely
+reproaching his master. Such behavior, he said, was unworthy of
+Plutarch; that anger disgraced a philosopher; that he had often
+disputed on the mischiefs of anger; that he had written a very
+excellent book about not giving place to anger; but that whatever
+he had said in that book was now contradicted by the furious
+and ungovernable anger with which he had now ordered him
+to be severely beaten. Plutarch then replied with deliberate calmness:&mdash;"But
+why, rascal, do I now seem to you to be in anger?
+Is it from my countenance, my voice, my color, or my words, that
+you conceive me to be angry? I cannot think that my eyes betray
+any ferocity, nor is my countenance disturbed or my voice
+boisterous; neither do I foam at the mouth, nor are my cheeks
+red; nor do I say anything indecent or to be repented of; nor
+do I tremble or seem greatly agitated. These, though you may
+not know it, are the usual signs of anger." Then, turning to the
+person who was whipping him: "Whilst this man and I," said
+he, "are disputing, do you go on with your employment."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 6258]</a></span></p>
+<h3><span class="smcap">Discussion on One of Solon's Laws</span></h3>
+
+<p>In those very ancient laws of Solon which were inscribed at
+Athens on wooden tables, and which, from veneration to him,
+the Athenians, to render eternal, had sanctioned with punishments
+and religious oaths, Aristotle relates there was one to this
+effect: If in any tumultuous dissension a sedition should ensue,
+and the people divide themselves into two parties, and from this
+irritation of their minds both sides should take arms and fight;
+then he who in this unfortunate period of civil discord should
+join himself to neither party, but should individually withdraw
+himself from the common calamity of the city, should be deprived
+of his house, his family and fortunes, and be driven into exile
+from his country. When I had read this law of Solon, who was
+eminent for his wisdom, I was at first impressed with great
+astonishment, wondering for what reason he should think those
+men deserving of punishment who withdrew themselves from
+sedition and a civil war. Then a person who had profoundly
+and carefully examined the use and purport of this law, affirmed
+that it was calculated not to increase but terminate sedition; and
+indeed it really is so, for if all the more respectable, who were
+at first unable to check sedition, and could not overawe the
+divided and infatuated people, join themselves to one part or
+other, it will happen that when they are divided on both sides,
+and each party begins to be ruled and moderated by them, as
+men of superior influence, harmony will by their means be sooner
+restored and confirmed; for whilst they regulate and temper their
+own parties respectively, they would rather see their opponents
+conciliated than destroyed. Favorinus the philosopher was of
+opinion that the same thing ought to be done in the disputes of
+brothers and of friends: that they who are benevolently inclined
+to both sides, but have little influence in restoring harmony,
+from being considered as doubtful friends, should decidedly take
+one part or other; by which act they will obtain more effectual
+power in restoring harmony to both. At present, says he, the
+friends of both think they do well by leaving and deserting both,
+thus giving them up to malignant or sordid lawyers, who inflame
+their resentments and disputes from animosity or from avarice.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 6259]</a></span></p>
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Nature of Sight</span></h3>
+
+<p>I have remarked various opinions among philosophers concerning
+the causes of sight and the nature of vision. The Stoics
+affirm the causes of sight to be an emission of radii from the
+eyes against those things which are capable of being seen, with
+an expansion at the same time of the air. But Epicurus thinks
+that there proceed from all bodies certain images of the bodies
+themselves, and that these impress themselves upon the eyes, and
+that thence arises the sense of sight. Plato is of opinion that a
+species of fire and light issues from the eyes, and that this, being
+united and continued either with the light of the sun or the light
+of some other fire, by its own, added to the external force, enables
+us to see whatever it meets and illuminates.</p>
+
+<p>But on these things it is not worth while to trifle further; and
+I recur to an opinion of the Neoptolemus of Ennius, whom I
+have before mentioned: he thinks that we should taste of philosophy,
+but not plunge in it over head and ears.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Earliest Libraries</span></h3>
+
+<p>Pisistratus the tyrant is said to have been the first who supplied
+books of the liberal sciences at Athens for public use.
+Afterwards the Athenians themselves with great care and pains
+increased their number; but all this multitude of books, Xerxes,
+when he obtained possession of Athens and burned the whole of
+the city except the citadel, seized and carried away to Persia.
+But King Seleucus, who was called Nicanor, many years afterwards,
+was careful that all of them should be again carried back
+to Athens.</p>
+
+<p>A prodigious number of books were in succeeding times collected
+by the Ptolemies in Egypt, to the amount of near seven
+hundred thousand volumes. But in the first Alexandrine war the
+whole library, during the plunder of the city, was destroyed by
+fire; not by any concerted design, but accidentally by the auxiliary
+soldiers.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Realistic Acting</span></h3>
+
+<p>There was an actor in Greece of great celebrity, superior to
+the rest in the grace and harmony of his voice and action. His
+name, it is said, was Polus, and he acted in the tragedies of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 6260]</a></span>
+more eminent poets, with great knowledge and accuracy. This
+Polus lost by death his only and beloved son. When he had
+sufficiently indulged his natural grief, he returned to his employment.
+Being at this time to act the 'Electra' of Sophocles at
+Athens, it was his part to carry an urn as containing the bones
+of Orestes. The argument of the fable is so imagined that
+Electra, who is presumed to carry the relics of her brother,
+laments and commiserates his end, who is believed to have died a
+violent death. Polus, therefore, clad in the mourning habit of
+Electra, took from the tomb the bones and urn of his son, and
+as if embracing Orestes, filled the place, not with the image and
+imitation, but with the sighs and lamentations of unfeigned sorrow.
+Therefore, when a fable seemed to be represented, real
+grief was displayed.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Athlete's End</span></h3>
+
+<p>Milo of Crotona, a celebrated wrestler, who as is recorded
+was crowned in the fiftieth Olympiad, met with a lamentable and
+extraordinary death. When, now an old man, he had desisted
+from his athletic art and was journeying alone in the woody
+parts of Italy, he saw an oak very near the roadside, gaping in
+the middle of the trunk, with its branches extended: willing, I
+suppose, to try what strength he had left, he put his fingers into
+the fissure of the tree, and attempted to pluck aside and separate
+the oak, and did actually tear and divide it in the middle;
+but when the oak was thus split in two, and he relaxed his hold
+as having accomplished his intention, upon a cessation of the
+force it returned to its natural position, and left the man, when
+it united, with his hands confined, to be torn by wild beasts.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Rev. W. Beloe.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 6261]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="GESTA_ROMANORUM" id="GESTA_ROMANORUM"></a>GESTA ROMANORUM</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capw.png" width="90" height="91" alt="W" title="W" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">hat are the 'Gesta Romanorum'? The most curious and interesting
+of all collections of popular tales. Negatively, one
+thing they are not: that is, they are not <i>Deeds of the Romans</i>,
+the acts of the heirs of the C&aelig;sars. All such allusions are the purest
+fantasy. The great "citee of Rome," and some oddly dubbed emperor
+thereof, indeed the entire background, are in truth as unhistorical
+and imaginary as the tale itself.</p>
+
+<p>Such stories are very old. So far back did they spring that it
+would be idle to conjecture their origin. In the centuries long before
+Caxton, the centuries before manuscript-writing filled up the leisure
+hours of the monks, the 'Gesta,' both in the Orient and in the Occident,
+were brought forth. Plain, direct, and unvarnished, they are the
+form in which the men of ideas of those rude times approached and
+entertained, by accounts of human joy and woe, their brother men of
+action. Every race of historic importance, from the eastern Turanians
+to the western Celts, has produced such legends. Sometimes they
+delight the lover of folk-lore; sometimes they belong to the Dryasdust
+antiquarian. But our 'Gesta,' with their directness and na&iuml;vet&eacute;, with
+their occasional beauty of diction and fine touches of sympathy and
+imagination,&mdash;even with their Northern lack of grace,&mdash;are properly
+a part of literature. In these 'Deeds' is found the plot or ground-plan
+of such master works as 'King Lear' and the 'Merchant of
+Venice,' and the first cast of material refined by Chaucer, Gower,
+Lydgate, Schiller, and other writers.</p>
+
+<p>Among the people in mediaeval times such tales evidently passed
+from mouth to mouth. They were the common food of fancy and
+delight to our forefathers, as they gathered round the fire in stormy
+weather. Their recital enlivened the women's unnumbered hours of
+spinning, weaving, and embroidery. As the short days of the year
+came on, there must have been calls for 'The Knights of Baldak and
+Lombardy,' 'The Three Caskets,' or 'The White and Black Daughters,'
+as nowadays we go to our book-shelves for the stories that the
+race still loves, and ungraciously enjoy the silent telling.</p>
+
+<p>Such folk-stories as those in the 'Gesta' are in the main made
+of, must have passed from district to district and even from nation
+to nation, by many channels,&mdash;chief among them the constant wanderings
+of monks and minstrels,&mdash;becoming the common heritage of
+many peoples, and passing from secular to sacerdotal use. The
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 6262]</a></span>
+medi&aelig;val Church, with the acuteness that characterized it, seized on
+the pretty tales, and adding to them the moralizing which a crude
+system of ethics enjoined, carried its spoils to the pulpit. Even the
+fables of pagan &AElig;sop were thus employed.</p>
+
+<p>In the twelfth century the ecclesiastical forces were appropriating
+to their use whatever secular rights and possessions came within
+their grasp. A common ardor permitted and sustained this aggrandizement,
+and the devotion that founded and swelled the mendicant
+orders of Francis and Dominic, and led the populace to carry with
+prayers and psalm-singing the stones of which great cathedrals were
+built, readily gave their hearth-tales to illustrate texts and inculcate
+doctrines. A habit of interpreting moral and religious precepts by
+allegory led to the far-fetched, sometimes droll, and always naive
+"moralities" which commonly follow each one of the 'Gesta.' The
+more popular the tale, the more easily it held the attention; and the
+priests with telling directness brought home the moral to the simple-minded.
+The innocent joys and sad offenses of humanity interpreted
+the Church's whole system of theology, and the stories, committed to
+writing by the priests, were thus preserved.</p>
+
+<p>The secular tales must have been used in the pulpit for some
+time before their systematic collection was undertaken. The zeal for
+compiling probably reached its height in the age of Pierre Bercheure,
+who died in 1362. To Bercheure, prior of the Benedictine Convent
+of St. Eloi at Paris, the collection of 'Gesta Romanorum' has been
+ascribed. A German scholar, however, Herr &Ouml;sterley, who published
+in 1872 the result of an investigation of one hundred and sixty-five
+manuscripts, asserts that the 'Gesta' were originally compiled towards
+the end of the thirteenth century in England, from which country
+they were taken to the Continent, there undergoing various alterations.
+"The popularity of the original 'Gesta,'" says Sir F. Madden,
+"not only on the Continent but among the English clergy, appears
+to have induced some person, apparently in the reign of Richard
+the Second, to undertake a similar compilation in this country." The
+'Anglo-Latin Gesta' is the immediate original of the early English
+translation from which the following stories are taken, with slight
+verbal changes.</p>
+
+<p>The word <i>Gesta</i>, in medi&aelig;val Latin, means notable or historic act
+or exploit. The Church, drawing all power, consequence, and grace
+from Rome, naturally looked back to the Roman empire for historic
+examples. In this fact we find the reason of the name. The tales
+betray an entire ignorance of history. In one, for example, a statue
+is raised to Julius C&aelig;sar twenty-two years after the founding of
+Rome; while in another, Socrates, Alexander, and the Emperor Claudius
+are living together in Rome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 6263]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It is a pleasant picture which such legends bring before our eyes.
+The old parish church of England, which with its yards is a common
+meeting-place for the people's fairs and wakes, and even for their
+beer-brewing; the simple rustics forming the congregation; the tonsured
+head of the priest rising above the pulpit,&mdash;a monk from the
+neighboring abbey, who earns his brown bread and ale and venison
+by endeavors to move the moral sentiments which lie at the root of
+the Anglo-Saxon character and beneath the apparent stolidity of each
+yokel. Many of the tales are unfit for reproduction in our more
+mincing times. The faithlessness of wives&mdash;with no reference whatever
+to the faithlessness of husbands&mdash;is a favorite theme with these
+ancient cenobites.</p>
+
+<p>It is possible, Herr &Ouml;sterley thinks, that the conjecture of Francis
+Douce may be true, and the 'Gesta' may after all have been compiled
+in Germany. But the bulk of the evidence goes to prove an English
+origin. The earliest editions were published at Utrecht and at Cologne.
+The English translation, from the text of the Latin of the
+reign of Richard II., was first printed by Wynkyn de Worde between
+1510 and 1515. In 1577 Richard Robinson published a revised edition
+of Wynkyn de Worde's. The work became again popular, and between
+1648 and 1703 at least eight issues were sold. An English translation
+by Charles Swan from the Latin text was first published in 1824, and
+reissued under the editorship of Thomas Wright in 1872 as a part of
+Bohn's Library.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THEODOSIUS_THE_EMPEROUREA" id="THEODOSIUS_THE_EMPEROUREA"></a>THEODOSIUS THE EMPEROURE<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h3>
+
+
+<p>Theodosius reigned a wise emperour in the cite of Rome, and
+mighty he was of power; the which emperoure had three
+doughters. So it liked to this emperour to knowe which of
+his doughters loved him best; and then he said to the eldest
+doughter, "How much lovest thou me?" "Forsoth," quoth she,
+"more than I do myself." "Therefore," quoth he, "thou shalt
+be heighly advanced;" and married her to a riche and mighty
+kyng. Then he came to the second, and said to her, "Doughter,
+how muche lovest thou me?" "As muche forsoth," she said, "as
+I do myself." So the emperoure married her to a duke. And
+then he said to the third doughter, "How much lovest thou
+me?" "Forsoth," quoth she, "as muche as ye be worthy, and
+no more." Then said the emperoure, "Doughter, since thou
+lovest me no more, thou shalt not be married so richely as thy
+sisters be." And then he married her to an earl.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 6264]</a></span>After
+this it happened that the emperour held battle against
+the Kyng of Egipt, and the kyng drove the emperour oute of
+the empire, in so muche that the emperour had no place to abide
+inne. So he wrote lettres ensealed with his ryng to his first
+doughter that said that she loved him more than her self, for to
+pray her of succoring in that great need, bycause he was put out
+of his empire. And when the doughter had red these lettres she
+told it to the kyng her husband. Then quoth the kyng, "It is
+good that we succor him in his need. I shall," quoth he, "gather
+an host and help him in all that I can or may; and that will not
+be done withoute great costage." "Yea," quoth she, "it were
+sufficiant if that we would graunt him V knyghtes to be fellowship
+with him while he is oute of his empire." And so it was
+done indeed; and the doughter wrote again to the fader that
+other help might he not have, but V knyghtes of the kynges to
+be in his fellowship, at the coste of the kyng her husband.</p>
+
+<p>And when the emperour heard this he was hevy in his hert
+and said, "Alas! alas! all my trust was in her; for she said she
+loved me more than herself, and therefore I advanced her so high."</p>
+
+<p>Then he wrote to the second, that said she loved him as
+much as her self. And when she had herd his lettres she shewed
+his erand to her husband, and gave him in counsel that he should
+find him mete and drink and clothing, honestly as for the state
+of such a lord, during tyme of his nede; and when this was
+graunted she wrote lettres agein to hir fadir.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperour was hevy with this answere, and said, "Since
+my two doughters have thus grieved me, in sooth I shall prove
+the third."</p>
+
+<p>And so he wrote to the third that she loved him as muche as
+he was worthy; and prayed her of succor in his nede, and told
+her the answere of her two sisters. So the third doughter, when
+she considered the mischief of her fader, she told her husbond in
+this fourme: "My worshipful lord, do succor me now in this great
+nede; my fadir is put out of his empire and his heritage." Then
+spake he, "What were thy will I did thereto?" "That ye gather
+a great host," quoth she, "and help him to fight against his enemys."
+"I shall fulfill thy will," said the earl; and gathered a
+greate hoste and wente with the emperour at his owne costage to
+the battle, and had the victorye, and set the emperour again in
+his heritage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 6265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And then said the emperour, "Blessed be the hour I gat my
+yonest doughter! I loved her lesse than any of the others, and
+now in my nede she hath succored me, and the others have failed
+me, and therefore after my deth she shall have mine empire."
+And so it was done in dede; for after the deth of the emperour
+the youngest doughter reigned in his sted, and ended peacefully.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Moralite</span></h3>
+
+<p>Dere Frendis, this emperour may be called each worldly man,
+the which hath three doughters. The first doughter, that saith,
+"I love my fadir more than my self," is the worlde, whom a man
+loveth so well that he expendeth all his life about it; but what
+tyme he shall be in nede of deth, scarcely if the world will for
+all his love give him five knyghtes, <i>scil.</i> v. boards for a coffin to
+lay his body inne in the sepulcre. The second doughter, that
+loveth her fader as muche as her selfe, is thy wife or thy children
+or thy kin, the whiche will haply find thee in thy nede to
+the tyme that thou be put in the erthe. And the third doughter,
+that loveth thee as muche as thou art worthy, is our Lord God,
+whom we love too little. But if we come to him in tyme of oure
+nede with a clene hert and mynd, withoute doute we shall have
+help of him against the Kyng of Egipt, <i>scil.</i> the Devil; and he
+shall set us in our owne heritage, <i>scil.</i> the kyngdome of heven.
+<i>Ad quod nos</i> [etc.].</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="ANCELMUS_THE_EMPEROURA" id="ANCELMUS_THE_EMPEROURA"></a>ANCELMUS THE EMPEROUR<a name="FNanchor_A_2" id="FNanchor_A_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></h3>
+
+<p>Ancelmus reigned emperour in the cite of Rome, and he
+wedded to wife the Kinges doughter of Jerusalem, the
+which was a faire woman and long dwelte in his company.</p>
+
+<p>... Happing in a certaine evening as he walked after his
+supper in a fair green, and thought of all the worlde, and
+especially that he had no heir, and how that the Kinge of Naples
+strongly therefore noyed [harmed] him each year; and so whenne
+it was night he went to bed and took a sleep and dreamed this:
+He saw the firmament in its most clearnesse, and more clear
+than it was wont to be, and the moon was more pale; and on a
+parte of the moon was a faire-colored bird, and beside her stood
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 6266]</a></span>
+two beasts, the which nourished the bird with their heat and
+breath. After this came divers beasts and birds flying, and they
+sang so sweetly that the emperour was with the song awaked.</p>
+
+<p>Thenne on the morrow the emperoure had great marvel of
+his sweven [dream], and called to him divinours [soothsayers]
+and lords of all the empire, and saide to them, "Deere frendes,
+telleth me what is the interpretation of my sweven, and I shall
+reward you; and but if ye do, ye shall be dead." And then they
+saide, "Lord, show to us this dream, and we shall tell thee the
+interpretation of it." And then the emperour told them as is
+saide before, from beginning to ending. And then they were
+glad, and with a great gladnesse spake to him and saide, "Sir,
+this was a good sweven. For the firmament that thou sawe so
+clear is the empire, the which henceforth shall be in prosperity;
+the pale moon is the empresse.... The little bird is the
+faire son whom the empresse shall bryng forth, when time
+cometh; the two beasts been riche men and wise men that shall
+be obedient to thy childe; the other beasts been other folke, that
+never made homage and nowe shall be subject to thy sone; the
+birds that sang so sweetly is the empire of Rome, that shall joy
+of thy child's birth: and sir, this is the interpretacion of your
+dream."</p>
+
+<p>When the empresse heard this she was glad enough; and soon
+she bare a faire sone, and thereof was made much joy. And
+when the King of Naples heard that, he thought to himselfe:
+"I have longe time holden war against the emperour, and it may
+not be but that it will be told to his son, when that he cometh
+to his full age, howe that I have fought all my life against his
+fader. Yea," thought he, "he is now a child, and it is good that
+I procure for peace, that I may have rest of him when he is in
+his best and I in my worste."</p>
+
+<p>So he wrote lettres to the emperour for peace to be had; and
+the emperour seeing that he did that more for cause of dread
+than of love, he sent him worde again, and saide that he would
+make him surety of peace, with condition that he would be in
+his servitude and yield him homage all his life, each year.
+Thenne the kyng called his counsel and asked of them what was
+best to do; and the lordes of his kyngdom saide that it was goode
+to follow the emperour in his will:&mdash;"In the first ye aske of him
+surety of peace; to that we say thus: Thou hast a doughter and
+he hath a son; let matrimony be made between them, and so
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 6267]</a></span>
+there shall be good sikernesse [sureness]; also it is good to make
+him homage and yield him rents." Thenne the kyng sent word
+to the emperour and saide that he would fulfill his will in all
+points, and give his doughter to his son in wife, if that it were
+pleasing to him.</p>
+
+<p>This answer liked well the emperour. So lettres were made
+of this covenaunt; and he made a shippe to be adeyned [prepared],
+to lead his doughter with a certain of knightes and ladies
+to the emperour to be married with his sone. And whenne they
+were in the shippe and hadde far passed from the lande, there
+rose up a great horrible tempest, and drowned all that were in
+the ship, except the maid. Thenne the maide set all her hope
+strongly in God; and at the last the tempest ceased; but then
+followed strongly a great whale to devoure this maid. And
+whenne she saw that, she muche dreaded; and when the night
+come, the maid, dreading that the whale would have swallowed
+the ship, smote fire at a stone, and had great plenty of fire; and
+as long as the fire lasted the whale durst come not near, but
+about cock's crow the mayde, for great vexacion that she had
+with the tempest, fell asleep, and in her sleep the fire went out;
+and when it was out the whale came nigh and swallowed both
+the ship and the mayde. And when the mayde felt that she was
+in the womb of a whale, she smote and made great fire, and
+grievously wounded the whale with a little knife, in so much
+that the whale drew to the land and died; for that is the kind
+to draw to the land when he shall die.</p>
+
+<p>And in this time there was an earl named Pirius, and he
+walked in his disport by the sea, and afore him he sawe the
+whale come toward the land. He gathered great help and
+strength of men; and with diverse instruments they smote the
+whale in every part of him. And when the damsell heard the
+great strokes she cried with an high voice and saide, "Gentle
+sirs, have pity on me, for I am the doughter of a king, and a
+mayde have been since I was born." Whenne the earl heard
+this he marveled greatly, and opened the whale and took oute
+the damsell. Thenne the maide tolde by order how that she was
+a kyng's doughter, and how she lost her goods in the sea, and
+how she should be married to the son of the emperour. And
+when the earl heard these words he was glad, and helde the
+maide with him a great while, till tyme that she was well comforted;
+and then he sent her solemnly to the emperour. And
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 6268]</a></span>
+whenne he saw her coming, and heard that she had tribulacions
+in the sea, he had great compassion for her in his heart, and
+saide to her, "Goode damsell, thou hast suffered muche anger for
+the love of my son; nevertheless, if that thou be worthy to have
+him I shall soon prove."</p>
+
+<p>The emperour had made III. vessells, and the first was of
+clean [pure] golde and full of precious stones outwarde, and
+within full of dead bones; and it had a superscription in these
+words: <i>They that choose me shall find in me that they deserve.</i>
+The second vessell was all of clean silver, and full of worms:
+and outwarde it had this superscription: <i>They that choose me
+shall find in me that nature and kind desireth.</i> And the third
+vessell was of lead and within was full of precious stones, and
+without was set this scripture [inscription]: <i>They that choose me
+shall find in me that God hath disposed.</i> These III. vessells
+tooke the emperour and showed the maide, saying, "Lo! deer
+damsell, here are three worthy vessellys, and if thou choose
+[the] one of these wherein is profit and right to be chosen, then
+thou shalt have my son to husband; and if thou choose that that
+is not profitable to thee nor to no other, forsooth, thenne thou
+shalt not have him."</p>
+
+<p>Whenne the doughter heard this and saw the three vessells,
+she lifted up her eyes to God and saide:&mdash;"Thou, Lord, that
+knowest all things, graunt me thy grace now in the need of this
+time, <i>scil.</i> that I may choose at this time, wherethrough [through
+which] I may joy the son of the emperour and have him to husband."
+Thenne she beheld the first vessell that was so subtly
+[cunningly] made, and read the superscription; and thenne she
+thought, "What have I deserved for to have so precious a vessell?
+and though it be never so gay without, I know not how
+foul it is within;" so she tolde the emperour that she would by
+no way choose that. Thenne she looked to the second, that was
+of silver, and read the superscription; and thenne she said,
+"My nature and kind asketh but delectation of the flesh, forsooth,
+sir," quoth she; "and I refuse this." Thenne she looked
+to the third, that was of lead, and read the superscription, and
+then she, saide, "In sooth, God disposed never evil; forsooth, that
+which God hath disposed will I take and choose."</p>
+
+<p>And when the emperour sawe that he saide, "Goode damesell,
+open now that vessell and see what thou hast found." And
+when it was opened it was full of gold and precious stones.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 6269]</a></span>
+And thenne the emperour saide to her again, "Damesell, thou
+hast wisely chosen and won my son to thine husband." So the
+day was set of their bridal, and great joy was made; and the son
+reigned after the decease of the fadir, the which made faire
+ende. <i>Ad quod nos perducat!</i> Amen.</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Moralite</span></h3>
+
+<p>Deere frendis, this emperour is the Father of Heaven, the
+whiche made man ere he tooke flesh. The empress that conceived
+was the blessed Virgin, that conceived by the annunciation
+of the angel. The firmament was set in his most clearnesse,
+<i>scil.</i> the world was lighted in all its parts by the concepcion of
+the empress Our Lady.... The little bird that passed from
+the side of the moon is our Lord Jesus Christ, that was born at
+midnight and lapped [wrapped] in clothes and set in the crib.
+The two beasts are the oxen and the asses. The beasts that
+come from far parts are the herds [shepherds] to whom the
+angels saide, <i>Ecce annuncio vobis gaudium magnum</i>,&mdash;"Lo! I
+shew you a great joy." The birds that sang so sweetly are
+angels of heaven, that sang <i>Gloria in excelsis Deo</i>. The king
+that held such war is mankind, that was contrary to God while
+that it was in power of the Devil; but when our Lord Jesus
+Christ was born, then mankind inclined to God, and sent for
+peace to be had, when he took baptism and saide that he gave
+him to God and forsook the Devil. Now the king gave his
+doughter to the son of the emperour, <i>scil.</i> each one of us ought
+to give to God our soul in matrimony; for he is ready to receive
+her to his spouse [etc.].</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="HOW_AN_ANCHORESS_WAS_TEMPTED_BY_THE_DEVIL" id="HOW_AN_ANCHORESS_WAS_TEMPTED_BY_THE_DEVIL"></a>HOW AN ANCHORESS WAS TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL</h3>
+
+<p>There was a woman some time in the world living that sawe
+the wretchedness, the sins, and the unstableness that was in
+the worlde; therefore she left all the worlde, and wente into
+the deserte, and lived there many years with roots and grasse,
+and such fruit as she might gete; and dranke water of the welle-spryng,
+for othere livelihood had she none. Atte laste, when she
+had longe dwelled there in that place, the Devil in likenesse of a
+woman, come to this holy woman's place; and when he come there
+he knocked at the door. The holy woman come to the door and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 6270]</a></span>
+asked what she would? She saide, "I pray thee, dame, that thou
+wilt harbor me this night; for this day is at an end, and I am
+afeard that wild beasts should devour me." The good woman
+saide, "For God's love ye are welcome to me; and take such as
+God sendeth."  They sat them down together, and the good
+woman sat and read saints' lives and other good things, till she
+come to this writing, "Every tree that bringeth not forth good
+fruit shall be caste downe, and burnt in helle." "That is sooth,"
+saide the Fiend, "and therefore I am adread; for if we lead
+oure life alone, therefore we shall have little meed, for when we
+dwelle alone we profit none but oure self. Therefore it were
+better, me thinketh, to go and dwelle among folke, for to give
+example to man and woman dwelling in this worlde. Then shall
+we have much meed." When this was saide they went to reste.
+This good woman thought faste in her heart that she might not
+sleep nor have no rest, for the thing that the Fiend had said.
+Anon this woman arose and saide to the other woman, "This
+night might I have no reste for the words that thou saide yester
+even. Therefore I wot never what is best to be done for us."
+Then the Devil said to her again, "It is best to go forth to profit
+to othere that shall be glad of oure coming, for that is much
+more worth than to live alone." Then saide the woman to the
+Fiend, "Go we now forthe on oure way, for me thinketh it is not
+evil to essay." And when she should go oute at the door, she
+stood still, and said thus, "Now, sweet Lady, Mother of mercy,
+and help at all need, now counsell me the beste, and keep me
+both body and soule from deadly sin." When she had said these
+words with good heart and with good will, oure Lady come and
+laide her hande on her breast, and put her in again, and bade
+her that she should abide there, and not be led by falsehood of
+oure Enemy. The Fiend anon went away that she saw him no
+more there. Then she was full fain that she was kept and not
+beguiled of her enemy. Then she said on this wise to oure
+Blessed Lady that is full of mercy and goodnesse, "I thanke thee
+nowe with all my heart, specially for this keeping and many more
+that thou hast done to me oft since; and good Lady, keep me
+from henceforward." Lo! here may men and women see how
+ready this good Lady is to help her servants at all their need,
+when they call to her for help, that they fall not in sin bestirring
+of the wicked enemy the false Fiend.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 6271]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GIBBON" id="GIBBON"></a>
+<span class="caption">EDWARD GIBBON.</span>
+<img src="images/gibbon.jpg" width="100%" alt="EDWARD GIBBON." title="EDWARD GIBBON." />
+</div>
+
+
+<h2><a name="EDWARD_GIBBON" id="EDWARD_GIBBON"></a>EDWARD GIBBON</h2>
+
+<h4>(1737-1794)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY W. E. H. LECKY</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capt.png" width="90" height="90" alt="T" title="T" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">he history of Gibbon has been described by John Stuart Mill
+as the only eighteenth-century history that has withstood
+nineteenth-century criticism; and whatever objections modern
+critics may bring against some of its parts, the substantial justice
+of this verdict will scarcely be contested. No other history of that
+century has been so often reprinted, annotated, and discussed, or
+remains to the present day a capital authority on the great period of
+which it treats. As a composition it stands unchallenged and conspicuous
+among the masterpieces of English literature, while as a
+history it covers a space of more than twelve hundred years, including
+some of the most momentous events in the annals of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>Gibbon was born at Putney, Surrey, April 27th, 1737. Though his
+father was a member of Parliament and the owner of a moderate
+competence, the author of this great work was essentially a self-educated
+man. Weak health and almost constant illness in early boyhood
+broke up his school life,&mdash;which appears to have been fitfully
+and most imperfectly conducted,&mdash;withdrew him from boyish games,
+but also gave him, as it has given to many other shy and sedentary
+boys, an early and inveterate passion for reading. His reading, however,
+was very unlike that of an ordinary boy. He has given a
+graphic picture of the ardor with which, when he was only fourteen,
+he flung himself into serious but unguided study; which was at first
+purely desultory, but gradually contracted into historic lines, and
+soon concentrated itself mainly on that Oriental history which he
+was one day so brilliantly to illuminate. "Before I was sixteen," he
+says, "I had exhausted all that could be learned in English of the
+Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks; and the same ardor led
+me to guess at the French of D'Herbelot, and to construe the barbarous
+Latin of Pocock's 'Abulfaragius.'"</p>
+
+<p>His health however gradually improved, and when he entered
+Magdalen College, Oxford, it might have been expected that a new
+period of intellectual development would have begun; but Oxford had
+at this time sunk to the lowest depth of stagnation, and to Gibbon
+it proved extremely uncongenial. He complained that he found no
+guidance, no stimulus, and no discipline, and that the fourteen
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 6272]</a></span>
+months he spent there were the most idle and unprofitable of his life.
+They were very unexpectedly cut short by his conversion to the
+Roman Catholic faith, which he formally adopted at the age of sixteen.</p>
+
+<p>This conversion is, on the whole, the most surprising incident of
+his calm and uneventful life. The tendencies of the time, both in
+England and on the Continent, were in a wholly different direction.
+The more spiritual and emotional natures were now passing into
+the religious revival of Wesley and Whitefield, which was slowly
+transforming the character of the Anglican Church and laying the
+foundations of the great Evangelical party. In other quarters the
+predominant tendencies were towards unbelief, skepticism, or indifference.
+Nature seldom formed a more skeptical intellect than that
+of Gibbon, and he was utterly without the spiritual insight, or spiritual
+cravings, or overmastering enthusiasms, that produce and explain most
+religious changes. Nor was he in the least drawn towards Catholicism
+on its aesthetic side. He had never come in contact with its
+worship or its professors; and to his unimaginative, unimpassioned,
+and profoundly intellectual temperament, no ideal type could be
+more uncongenial than that of the saint. He had however from early
+youth been keenly interested in theological controversies. He argued,
+like Lardner and Paley, that miracles are the Divine attestation of
+orthodoxy. Middleton convinced him that unless the Patristic writers
+were wholly undeserving of credit, the gift of miracles continued in
+the Church during the fourth and fifth centuries; and he was unable
+to resist the conclusion that during that period many of the leading
+doctrines of Catholicism had passed into the Church. The writings
+of the Jesuit Parsons, and still more the writings of Bossuet, completed
+the work which Middleton had begun. Having arrived at this
+conclusion, Gibbon acted on it with characteristic honesty, and was
+received into the Church on the 8th of June, 1753.</p>
+
+<p>The English universities were at this time purely Anglican bodies,
+and the conversion of Gibbon excluded him from Oxford. His father
+judiciously sent him to Lausanne to study with a Swiss pastor named
+Pavilliard, with whom he spent five happy and profitable years. The
+theological episode was soon terminated. Partly under the influence
+of his teacher, but much more through his own reading and reflections,
+he soon disentangled the purely intellectual ties that bound him
+to the Church of Rome; and on Christmas Day, 1754, he received the
+sacrament in the Protestant church of Lausanne.</p>
+
+<p>His residence at Lausanne was very useful to him. He had access
+to books in abundance, and his tutor, who was a man of great good
+sense and amiability but of no remarkable capacity, very judiciously
+left his industrious pupil to pursue his studies in his own way.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 6273]</a></span>
+"Hiving wisdom with each studious year," as Byron so truly says,
+he speedily amassed a store of learning which has seldom been
+equaled. His insatiable love of knowledge, his rare capacity for concentrated,
+accurate, and fruitful study, guided by a singularly sure
+and masculine judgment, soon made him, in the true sense of the
+word, one of the best scholars of his time. His learning, however, was
+not altogether of the kind that may be found in a great university
+professor. Though the classical languages became familiar to him, he
+never acquired or greatly valued the minute and finished scholarship
+which is the boast of the chief English schools; and careful students
+have observed that in following Greek books he must have very largely
+used the Latin translations. Perhaps in his capacity of historian this
+deficiency was rather an advantage than the reverse. It saved him
+from the exaggerated value of classical form, and from the neglect of
+the more corrupt literatures, to which English scholars have been often
+prone. Gibbon always valued books mainly for what they contained,
+and he had early learned the lesson which all good historians should
+learn: that some of his most valuable materials will be found in literatures
+that have no artistic merit; in writers who, without theory
+and almost without criticism, simply relate the facts which they have
+seen, and express in unsophisticated language the beliefs and impressions
+of their time.</p>
+
+<p>Lausanne and not Oxford was the real birthplace of his intellect,
+and he returned from it almost a foreigner. French had become as
+familiar to him as his own tongue; and his first book, a somewhat
+superficial essay on the study of literature, was published in the
+French language. The noble contemporary French literature filled
+him with delight, and he found on the borders of the Lake of Geneva
+a highly cultivated society to which he was soon introduced, and
+which probably gave him more real pleasure than any in which
+he afterwards moved. With Voltaire himself he had some slight
+acquaintance, and he at one time looked on him with profound admiration;
+though fuller knowledge made him sensible of the flaws
+in that splendid intellect. I am here concerned with the life of Gibbon
+only in as far as it discloses the influences that contributed to
+his master work, and among these influences the foreign element
+holds a prominent place. There was little in Gibbon that was distinctively
+English; his mind was essentially cosmopolitan. His tastes,
+ideals, and modes of thought and feeling turned instinctively to the
+Continent.</p>
+
+<p>In one respect this foreign type was of great advantage to his work.
+Gibbon excels all other English historians in symmetry, proportion,
+perspective, and arrangement, which are also the pre-eminent and
+characteristic merits of the best French literature. We find in his
+writing nothing of the great miscalculations of space that were made
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 6274]</a></span>
+by such writers as Macaulay and Buckle; nothing of the awkward
+repetitions, the confused arrangement, the semi-detached and disjointed
+episodes that mar the beauty of many other histories of no
+small merit. Vast and multifarious as are the subjects which he
+has treated, his work is a great whole, admirably woven in all its
+parts. On the other hand, his foreign taste may perhaps be seen in
+his neglect of the Saxon element, which is the most vigorous and
+homely element in English prose. Probably in no other English
+writer does the Latin element so entirely predominate. Gibbon never
+wrote an unmeaning and very seldom an obscure sentence; he could
+always paint with sustained and stately eloquence an illustrious character
+or a splendid scene: but he was wholly wanting in the grace of
+simplicity, and a monotony of glitter and of mannerism is the great
+defect of his style. He possessed, to a degree which even Tacitus
+and Bacon had hardly surpassed, the supreme literary gift of condensation,
+and it gives an admirable force and vividness to his narrative;
+but it is sometimes carried to excess. Not unfrequently it
+is attained by an excessive allusiveness, and a wide knowledge of
+the subject is needed to enable the reader to perceive the full import
+and meaning conveyed or hinted at by a mere turn of phrase.
+But though his style is artificial and pedantic, and greatly wanting
+in flexibility, it has a rare power of clinging to the memory, and it
+has profoundly influenced English prose. That excellent judge Cardinal
+Newman has said of Gibbon, "I seem to trace his vigorous
+condensation and peculiar rhythm at every turn in the literature
+of the present day."</p>
+
+<p>It is not necessary to relate here in any detail the later events of
+the life of Gibbon. There was his enlistment as captain in the
+Hampshire militia. It involved two and a half years of active service,
+extending from May 1760 to December 1762; and as Gibbon
+afterwards acknowledged, if it interrupted his studies and brought
+him into very uncongenial duties and societies, it at least greatly enlarged
+his acquaintance with English life, and also gave him a
+knowledge of the rudiments of military science, which was not without
+its use to the historian of so many battles. There was a long
+journey, lasting for two years and five months, in France and Italy,
+which greatly confirmed his foreign tendencies. In Paris he moved
+familiarly in some of the best French literary society; and in Rome,
+as he tells us in a well-known passage, while he sat "musing amidst
+the ruins of the Capitol while the barefooted friars were singing
+vespers in the Temple of Jupiter" (which is now the Church of the
+Ara C&#339;li),&mdash;on October 15th, 1764,&mdash;he first conceived the idea of
+writing the history of the decline and fall of Rome.</p>
+
+<p>There was also that very curious episode in his life, lasting from
+1774 to 1782,&mdash;his appearance in the House of Commons. He had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 6275]</a></span>
+declined an offer of his father's to purchase a seat for him in 1760;
+and fourteen years later, when his father was dead, when his own
+circumstances were considerably contracted, he received and accepted
+at the hands of a family connection the offer of a seat. His Parliamentary
+career was entirely undistinguished, and he never even
+opened his mouth in debate,&mdash;a fact which was not forgotten when
+very recently another historian was candidate for a seat in Parliament.
+In truth, this somewhat shy and reserved scholar, with his
+fastidious taste, his eminently judicial mind, and his highly condensed
+and elaborate style, was singularly unfit for the rough work of Parliamentary
+discussion. No one can read his books without perceiving
+that his English was not that of a debater; and he has candidly
+admitted that he entered Parliament without public spirit or serious
+interest in politics, and that he valued it chiefly as leading to an
+office which might restore the fortune which the extravagance of his
+father had greatly impaired. His only real public service was the
+composition in French of a reply to the French manifesto which was
+issued at the beginning of the war of 1778. He voted steadily and
+placidly as a Tory, and it is not probable that in doing so he did any
+violence to his opinions. Like Hume, he shrank with an instinctive
+dislike from all popular agitations, from all turbulence, passion, exaggeration,
+and enthusiasm; and a temperate and well-ordered despotism
+was evidently his ideal. He showed it in the well-known passage in
+which he extols the benevolent despotism of the Antonines as without
+exception the happiest period in the history of mankind, and in
+the unmixed horror with which he looked upon the French Revolution
+that broke up the old landmarks of Europe, For three years he
+held an office in the Board of Trade, which added considerably to his
+income without adding greatly to his labors, and he supported steadily
+the American policy of Lord North and the Coalition ministry of
+North and Fox; but the loss of his office and the retirement of North
+soon drove him from Parliament, and he shortly after took up his
+residence at Lausanne.</p>
+
+<p>But before this time a considerable part of his great work had been
+accomplished. The first quarto volume of the 'Decline and Fall' appeared
+in February 1776. As is usually the case with historical works,
+it occupied a much longer period than its successors, and was the
+fruit of about ten years of labor. It passed rapidly through three
+editions, received the enthusiastic eulogy of Hume and Robertson,
+and was no doubt greatly assisted in its circulation by the storm
+of controversy that arose about his Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters.
+In April 1781 two more volumes appeared, and the three concluding
+volumes were published together on the 8th of May, 1788, being the
+fifty-first birthday of the author.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 6276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A work of such magnitude, dealing with so vast a variety of subjects,
+was certain to exhibit some flaws. The controversy at first
+turned mainly upon its religious tendency. The complete skepticism
+of the author, his aversion to the ecclesiastical type which dominated
+in the period of which he wrote, and his unalterable conviction that
+Christianity, by diverting the strength and enthusiasm of the Empire
+from civic into ascetic and ecclesiastical channels, was a main cause
+of the downfall of the Empire and of the triumph of barbarism, gave
+him a bias which it was impossible to overlook. On no other subject
+is his irony more bitter or his contempt so manifestly displayed. Few
+good critics will deny that the growth of the ascetic spirit had a
+large part in corroding and enfeebling the civic virtues of the Empire;
+but the part which it played was that of intensifying a disease that
+had already begun, and Gibbon, while exaggerating the amount of
+the evil, has very imperfectly described the great services rendered
+even by a monastic Church in laying the basis of another civilization
+and in mitigating the calamities of the barbarian invasion. The
+causes he has given of the spread of Christianity in the Fifteenth
+Chapter were for the most part true causes, but there were others of
+which he was wholly insensible. The strong moral enthusiasms that
+transform the character and inspire or accelerate all great religious
+changes lay wholly beyond the sphere of his realizations. His language
+about the Christian martyrs is the most repulsive portion of
+his work; and his comparison of the sufferings caused by pagan and
+Christian persecutions is greatly vitiated by the fact that he only
+takes account of the number of deaths, and lays no stress on the profuse
+employment of atrocious tortures, which was one of the most
+distinct features of the pagan persecutions. At the same time, though
+Gibbon displays in this field a manifest and a distorting bias, he
+never, like some of his French contemporaries, sinks into the mere
+partisan, awarding to one side unqualified eulogy and to the other
+unqualified contempt. Let the reader who doubts this examine and
+compare his masterly portraits of Julian and of Athanasius, and he
+will perceive how clearly the great historian could recognize weaknesses
+in the characters by which he was most attracted, and elements
+of true greatness in those by which he was most repelled. A
+modern writer, in treating of the history of religions, would have
+given a larger space to comparative religion, and to the gradual, unconscious,
+and spontaneous growth of myths in the twilight periods of
+the human mind. These however were subjects which were scarcely
+known in the days of Gibbon, and he cannot be blamed for not having
+discussed them.</p>
+
+<p>Another class of objections which has been brought against him is
+that he is weak upon the philosophical side, and deals with history
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 6277]</a></span>
+mainly as a mere chronicle of events, and not as a chain of causes
+and consequences, a series of problems to be solved, a gradual evolution
+which it is the task of the historian to explain. Coleridge, who
+detested Gibbon and spoke of him with gross injustice, has put this
+objection in the strongest form. He accuses him of having reduced
+history to a mere collection of splendid anecdotes; of noting nothing
+but what may produce an effect; of skipping from eminence to eminence
+without ever taking his readers through the valleys between; of
+having never made a single philosophical attempt to fathom the ultimate
+causes of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, which is
+the very subject of his history. That such charges are grossly exaggerated
+will be apparent to any one who will carefully read the Second
+and Third Chapters, describing the state and tendencies of the
+Empire under the Antonines; or the chapters devoted to the rise and
+character of the barbarians, to the spread of Christianity, to the influence
+of monasticism, to the jurisprudence of the republic and of the
+Empire; nor would it be difficult to collect many acute and profound
+philosophical remarks from other portions of the history. Still, it
+may be admitted that the philosophical side is not its strongest part.
+Social and economical changes are sometimes inadequately examined
+and explained, and we often desire fuller information about the
+manners and life of the masses of the people. As far as concerns
+the age of the Antonines, this want has been amply supplied by the
+great work of Friedl&auml;nder.</p>
+
+<p>History, like many other things in our generation, has fallen
+largely into the hands of specialists; and it is inevitable that men
+who have devoted their lives to a minute examination of short
+periods should be able to detect some deficiencies and errors in a
+writer who traversed a period of more than twelve hundred years.
+Many generations of scholars have arisen since Gibbon; many new
+sources of knowledge have become available, and arch&aelig;ology especially
+has thrown a flood of new light on some of the subjects he
+treated. Though his knowledge and his narrative are on the whole
+admirably sustained, there are periods which he knew less well and
+treated less fully than others. His account of the Crusades is generally
+acknowledged to be one of the most conspicuous of these, and
+within the last few years there has arisen a school of historians who
+protest against the low opinion of the Byzantine Empire which was
+held by Gibbon, and was almost universal among scholars till the
+present generation. That these writers have brought into relief certain
+merits of the Lower Empire which Gibbon had neglected, will
+not be denied; but it is perhaps too early to decide whether the reaction
+has not, like most reactions, been carried to extravagance, and
+whether in its general features the estimate of Gibbon is not nearer
+the truth than some of those which are now put forward to replace it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 6278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Much must no doubt be added to the work of Gibbon in order to
+bring it up to the level of our present knowledge; but there is no
+sign that any single work is likely to supersede it or to render it useless
+to the student; nor does its survival depend only or even mainly
+on its great literary qualities, which have made it one of the classics
+of the language. In some of these qualities Hume was the equal of
+Gibbon and in others his superior, and he brought to his history a
+more penetrating and philosophical intellect and an equally calm and
+unenthusiastic nature; but the study which Hume bestowed on his
+subject was so superficial and his statements were often so inaccurate,
+that his work is now never quoted as an authority. With Gibbon
+it is quite otherwise. His marvelous industry, his almost unrivaled
+accuracy of detail, his sincere love of truth, his rare discrimination
+and insight in weighing testimony and in judging character, have
+given him a secure place among the greatest historians of the world.</p>
+
+<p>His life lasted only fifty-six years; he died in London on January
+15th, 1794. With a single exception his history is his only work of real
+importance. That exception is his admirable autobiography. Gibbon
+left behind him six distinct sketches, which his friend Lord Sheffield
+put together with singular skill. It is one of the best specimens of
+self-portraiture in the language, reflecting with pellucid clearness both
+the life and character, the merits and defects, of its author. He was
+certainly neither a hero nor a saint; nor did he possess the moral
+and intellectual qualities that dominate in the great conflicts of life,
+sway the passions of men, appeal powerfully to the imagination, or
+dazzle and impress in social intercourse. He was a little slow, a little
+pompous, a little affected and pedantic. In the general type of his
+mind and character he bore much more resemblance to Hume, Adam
+Smith, or Reynolds, than to Johnson or Burke. A reserved scholar,
+who was rather proud of being a man of the world; a confirmed
+bachelor, much wedded to his comforts though caring nothing for luxury,
+he was eminently moderate in his ambitions, and there was not
+a trace of passion or enthusiasm in his nature. Such a man was not
+likely to inspire any strong devotion.  But his temper was most
+kindly, equable, and contented; he was a steady friend, and he appears
+to have been always liked and honored in the cultivated and
+uncontentious society in which he delighted. His life was not a great
+one, but it was in all essentials blameless and happy. He found the
+work which was most congenial to him. He pursued it with admirable
+industry and with brilliant success, and he left behind him a
+book which is not likely to be forgotten while the English language
+endures.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/sign040.png" width="300" height="89" alt="W. E. H. Lecky" title="W. E. H. Lecky" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 6279]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="ZENOBIA" id="ZENOBIA"></a>ZENOBIA</h3>
+
+<p>Aurelian had no sooner secured the person and provinces of
+Tetricus, than he turned his arms against Zenobia, the celebrated
+queen of Palmyra and the East. Modern Europe has
+produced several illustrious women who have sustained with glory
+the weight of empire; nor is our own age destitute of such distinguished
+characters. But if we except the doubtful achievements
+of Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female whose
+superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on
+her sex by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her
+descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equaled in beauty
+her ancestor Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity
+and valor. Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely as well as the
+most heroic of her sex. She was of a dark complexion (for in
+speaking of a lady these trifles become important). Her teeth
+were of a pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled
+with uncommon fire, tempered by the most attractive sweetness.
+Her voice was strong and harmonious. Her manly understanding
+was strengthened and adorned by study. She was not ignorant
+of the Latin tongue, but possessed in equal perfection the
+Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages. She had drawn
+up for her own use an epitome of Oriental history, and familiarly
+compared the beauties of Homer and Plato under the tuition of
+the sublime Longinus.</p>
+
+<p>This accomplished woman gave her hand to Odenathus, who,
+from a private station, raised himself to the dominion of the
+East. She soon became the friend and companion of a hero. In
+the intervals of war, Odenathus passionately delighted in the exercise
+of hunting; he pursued with ardor the wild beasts of the
+desert,&mdash;lions, panthers, and bears; and the ardor of Zenobia in
+that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his own. She had
+inured her constitution to fatigue, disdained the use of a covered
+carriage, generally appeared on horseback in a military habit, and
+sometimes marched several miles on foot at the head of the
+troops. The success of Odenathus was in a great measure ascribed
+to her incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their splendid
+victories over the Great King, whom they twice pursued as
+far as the gates of Ctesiphon, laid the foundations of their united
+fame and power. The armies which they commanded, and the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 6280]</a></span>
+provinces which they had saved, acknowledged not any other sovereigns
+than their invincible chiefs. The Senate and people of
+Rome revered a stranger who had avenged their captive emperor,
+and even the insensible son of Valerian accepted Odenathus
+for his legitimate colleague.</p>
+
+<p>After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of
+Asia, the Palmyrenian prince returned to the city of Emesa in
+Syria. Invincible in war, he was there cut off by domestic treason;
+and his favorite amusement of hunting was the cause, or at
+least the occasion, of his death. His nephew M&aelig;onius presumed
+to dart his javelin before that of his uncle; and though admonished
+of his error, repeated the same insolence. As a monarch
+and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took away his
+horse, a mark of ignominy among the barbarians, and chastised
+the rash youth by a short confinement. The offense was soon forgot,
+but the punishment was remembered; and M&aelig;onius, with a
+few daring associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst of a
+great entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not of
+Zenobia, a young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was killed
+with his father. But M&aelig;onius obtained only the pleasure of
+revenge by this bloody deed. He had scarcely time to assume
+the title of Augustus, before he was sacrificed by Zenobia to
+the memory of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she immediately
+filled the vacant throne, and governed with manly counsels
+Palmyra, Syria, and the East, above five years. By the death of
+Odenathus, that authority was at an end which the Senate had
+granted him only as a personal distinction; but his martial
+widow, disdaining both the Senate and Gallienus, obliged one of
+the Roman generals who was sent against her to retreat into
+Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation. Instead of
+the little passions which so frequently perplex a female reign, the
+steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most judicious
+maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she could calm
+her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she could impose
+silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was accused of
+avarice; yet on every proper occasion she appeared magnificent
+and liberal. The neighboring States of Arabia, Armenia, and
+Persia dreaded her enmity and solicited her alliance. To the
+dominions of Odenathus, which extended from the Euphrates to
+the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the inheritance of her
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 6281]</a></span>
+ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of Egypt. The Emperor
+Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content that
+while <i>he</i> pursued the Gothic war, <i>she</i> should assert the dignity of
+the Empire in the East. The conduct however of Zenobia was
+attended with some ambiguity, nor is it unlikely that she had
+conceived the design of erecting an independent and hostile monarchy.
+She blended with the popular manners of Roman princes
+the stately pomp of the courts of Asia, and exacted from her subjects
+the same adoration that was paid to the successors of Cyrus.
+She bestowed on her three sons a Latin education, and often
+showed them to the troops adorned with the imperial purple.
+For herself she reserved the diadem, with the splendid but doubtful
+title of Queen of the East.</p>
+
+<p>When Aurelian passed over into Asia against an adversary
+whose sex alone could render her an object of contempt, his
+presence restored obedience to the province of Bithynia, already
+shaken by the arms and intrigues of Zenobia. Advancing at the
+head of his legions, he accepted the submission of Ancyra, and
+was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate siege, by the help
+of a perfidious citizen. The generous though fierce temper of
+Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers: a
+superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen
+of Apollonius the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on
+his approach, till the Emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the
+fugitives, and granted a general pardon to all who from necessity
+rather than choice had been engaged in the service of the
+Palmyrenian Queen. The unexpected mildness of such a conduct
+reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and as far as the gates of
+Emesa the wishes of the people seconded the terror of his arms.</p>
+
+<p>Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she indolently
+permitted the Emperor of the West to approach within a
+hundred miles of her capital. The fate of the East was decided
+in two great battles, so similar in almost every circumstance
+that we can scarcely distinguish them from each other, except by
+observing that the first was fought near Antioch and the second
+near Emesa. In both the Queen of Palmyra animated the armies
+by her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on
+Zabdas, who had already signalized his military talents by the
+conquest of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted
+for the most part of light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed
+in complete steel. The Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 6282]</a></span>
+were unable to sustain the ponderous charge of their antagonists.
+They fled in real or affected disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians
+in a laborious pursuit, harassed them by a desultory combat, and
+at length discomfited this impenetrable but unwieldy body of
+cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when they had
+exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a
+closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the
+legions. Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were
+usually stationed on the Upper Danube, and whose valor had
+been severely tried in the Alemannic war. After the defeat of
+Emesa, Zenobia found it impossible to collect a third army. As
+far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations subject to her empire
+had joined the standard of the conqueror, who detached Probus,
+the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the Egyptian
+provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of
+Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made
+every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared, with the
+intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and
+of her life should be the same.</p>
+
+<p>Amid the barren deserts of Arabia, a few cultivated spots rise
+like islands out of the sandy ocean. Even the name of Tadmor,
+or Palmyra, by its signification in the Syriac as well as in the
+Latin language, denoted the multitude of palm-trees which
+afforded shade and verdure to that temperate region. The air
+was pure, and the soil, watered by some invaluable springs, was
+capable of producing fruits as well as corn. A place possessed
+of such singular advantages, and situated at a convenient distance
+between the Gulf of Persia and the Mediterranean,<a name="FNanchor_A_3" id="FNanchor_A_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> was
+soon frequented by the caravans which conveyed to the nations
+of Europe a considerable part of the rich commodities of India.
+Palmyra insensibly increased into an opulent and independent
+city, and connecting the Roman and the Parthian monarchies
+by the mutual benefits of commerce, was suffered to observe a
+humble neutrality, till at length after the victories of Trajan
+the little republic sunk into the bosom of Rome, and flourished
+more than one hundred and fifty years in the subordinate though
+honorable rank of a colony. It was during that peaceful period,
+if we may judge from a few remaining inscriptions, that the
+wealthy Palmyrenians constructed those temples, palaces, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 6283]</a></span>
+porticos of Grecian architecture whose ruins, scattered over an
+extent of several miles, have deserved the curiosity of our travelers.
+The elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to reflect
+new splendor on their country, and Palmyra for a while stood
+forth the rival of Rome: but the competition was fatal, and ages
+of prosperity were sacrificed to a moment of glory.</p>
+
+
+<p>In his march over the sandy desert between Emesa and Palmyra,
+the Emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the
+Arabs; nor could he always defend his army, and especially his
+baggage, from those flying troops of active and daring robbers
+who watched the moment of surprise and eluded the slow pursuit
+of the legions. The siege of Palmyra was an object far
+more difficult and important, and the Emperor, who with incessant
+vigor pressed the attacks in person, was himself wounded
+with a dart. "The Roman people," says Aurelian, in an original
+letter, "speak with contempt of the war which I am waging
+against a woman. They are ignorant both of the character and
+of the power of Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike
+preparations of stones, of arrows, and of every species of
+missile weapons. Every part of the walls is provided with two
+or three <i>balist&aelig;</i>, and artificial fires are thrown from her military
+engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with a desperate
+courage. Yet still I trust in the protecting deities of Rome, who
+have hitherto been favorable to all my undertakings." Doubtful,
+however, of the protection of the gods and of the event of the
+siege, Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous
+capitulation: to the Queen, a splendid retreat; to the
+citizens, their ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately
+rejected, and the refusal was accompanied with insult.</p>
+
+<p>The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope that in a
+very short time famine would compel the Roman army to repass
+the desert, and by the reasonable expectation that the kings of
+the East, and particularly the Persian monarch, would arm in the
+defense of their most natural ally. But fortune and the perseverance
+of Aurelian overcame every obstacle. The death of Sapor,
+which happened about this time, distracted the counsels of Persia,
+and the inconsiderable succors that attempted to relieve Palmyra
+were easily intercepted either by the arms or the liberality of
+the Emperor. From every part of Syria a regular succession of
+convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by the
+return of Probus with his victorious troops from the conquest of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 6284]</a></span>
+Egypt. It was then that Zenobia resolved to fly. She mounted
+the fleetest of her dromedaries, and had already reached the banks
+of the Euphrates, about sixty miles from Palmyra, when she was
+overtaken by the pursuit of Aurelian's light horse, seized, and
+brought back a captive to the feet of the Emperor. Her capital
+soon afterwards surrendered, and was treated with unexpected
+lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with an immense treasure
+of gold, silver, silk, and precious stones, were all delivered to the
+conqueror, who, leaving only a garrison of six hundred archers,
+returned to Emesa and employed some time in the distribution
+of rewards and punishments at the end of so memorable a war,
+which restored to the obedience of Rome those provinces that had
+renounced their allegiance since the captivity of Valerian.</p>
+
+<p>When the Syrian Queen was brought into the presence of
+Aurelian he sternly asked her, How she had presumed to rise in
+arms against the emperors of Rome! The answer of Zenobia was
+a prudent mixture of respect and firmness: "Because I disdained
+to consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You
+alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign." But
+as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is seldom steady
+or consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the hour
+of trial; she trembled at the angry clamors of the soldiers, who
+called aloud for her immediate execution, forgot the generous
+despair of Cleopatra which she had proposed as her model, and
+ignominiously purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her
+friends. It was to their counsels, which governed the weakness
+of her sex, that she imputed the guilt of her obstinate resistance;
+it was on their heads that she directed the vengeance of the cruel
+Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who was included among the
+numerous and perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will survive
+that of the Queen who betrayed or the tyrant who condemned
+him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce
+unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize
+the soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint he calmly
+followed the executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing
+comfort on his afflicted friends....</p>
+
+<p>But, however in the treatment of his unfortunate rivals Aurelian
+might indulge his pride, he behaved towards them with a
+generous clemency which was seldom exercised by the ancient
+conquerors. Princes who without success had defended their
+throne or freedom, were frequently strangled in prison as soon
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 6285]</a></span>
+as the triumphal pomp ascended the Capitol. These usurpers,
+whom their defeat had convicted of the crime of treason, were
+permitted to spend their lives in affluence and honorable repose.
+The Emperor presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur,
+or Tivoli, about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen
+insensibly sunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into
+noble families, and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth century.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FOUNDATION_OF_CONSTANTINOPLE" id="FOUNDATION_OF_CONSTANTINOPLE"></a>FOUNDATION OF CONSTANTINOPLE</h3>
+
+<p>We are at present qualified to view the advantageous position
+of Constantinople, which appears to have been formed by
+nature for the centre and capital of a great monarchy.
+Situated in the forty-first degree of latitude, the imperial city
+commanded from her seven hills the opposite shores of Europe
+and Asia; the climate was healthy and temperate, the soil fertile,
+the harbor secure and capacious; and the approach on the side of
+the continent was of small extent and easy defense. The Bosphorus
+and the Hellespont may be considered as the two gates
+of Constantinople; and the prince who possessed those important
+passages could always shut them against a naval enemy and open
+them to the fleets of commerce. The preservation of the eastern
+provinces may in some degree be ascribed to the policy of Constantine,
+as the barbarians of the Euxine, who in the preceding
+age had poured their armaments into the heart of the Mediterranean,
+soon desisted from the exercise of piracy, and despaired
+of forcing this insurmountable barrier. When the gates of the
+Hellespont and Bosphorus were shut, the capital still enjoyed
+within their spacious inclosure every production which could supply
+the wants or gratify the luxury of its numerous inhabitants.
+The sea-coasts of Thrace and Bithynia, which languish under the
+weight of Turkish oppression, still exhibit a rich prospect of
+vineyards, of gardens, and of plentiful harvests; and the Propontis
+has ever been renowned for an inexhaustible store of the
+most exquisite fish, that are taken in their stated seasons without
+skill and almost without labor. But when the passages of
+the straits were thrown open for trade, they alternately admitted
+the natural and artificial riches of the North and South, of the
+Euxine and of the Mediterranean. Whatever rude commodities
+were collected in the forests of Germany and Scythia, as far as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 6286]</a></span>
+the sources of the Tanais and the Borysthenes; whatsoever was
+manufactured by the skill of Europe or Asia; the corn of Egypt,
+and the gems and spices of the farthest India, were brought by
+the varying winds into the port of Constantinople, which for
+many ages attracted the commerce of the ancient world.</p>
+
+<p>The prospect of beauty, of safety, and of wealth, united in a
+single spot, was sufficient to justify the choice of Constantine.
+But as some decent mixture of prodigy and fable has in every
+age been supposed to reflect a becoming majesty on the origin
+of great cities, the Emperor was desirous of ascribing his resolution,
+not so much to the uncertain counsels of human policy as
+to the infallible and eternal decrees of Divine wisdom. In one of
+his laws he has been careful to instruct posterity that in obedience
+to the commands of God he laid the everlasting foundations
+of Constantinople: and though he has not condescended to relate
+in what manner the celestial inspiration was communicated to his
+mind, the defect of his modest silence has been liberally supplied
+by the ingenuity of succeeding writers, who describe the
+nocturnal vision which appeared to the fancy of Constantine as
+he slept within the walls of Byzantium. The tutelar genius of
+the city, a venerable matron sinking under the weight of years
+and infirmities, was suddenly transformed into a blooming maid,
+whom his own hands adorned with all the symbols of imperial
+greatness. The monarch awoke, interpreted the auspicious omen,
+and obeyed without hesitation the will of Heaven. The day
+which gave birth to a city or colony was celebrated by the Romans
+with such ceremonies as had been ordained by a generous
+superstition; and though Constantine might omit some rites which
+savored too strongly of their pagan origin, yet he was anxious to
+leave a deep impression of hope and respect on the minds of the
+spectators. On foot, with a lance in his hand, the Emperor himself
+led the solemn procession, and directed the line which was
+traced as the boundary of the destined capital; till the growing
+circumference was observed with astonishment by the assistants,
+who at length ventured to observe that he had already exceeded
+the most ample measure of a great city. "I shall still advance,"
+replied Constantine, "till <span class="smcap">He</span>, the invisible guide who marches
+before me, thinks proper to stop." Without presuming to investigate
+the nature or motives of this extraordinary conductor, we
+shall content ourselves with the more humble task of describing
+the extent and limits of Constantinople.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 6287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In the actual state of the city, the palace and gardens of the
+Seraglio occupy the eastern promontory, the first of the seven
+hills, and cover about one hundred and fifty acres of our own
+measure. The seat of Turkish jealousy and despotism is erected
+on the foundations of a Grecian republic; but it may be supposed
+that the Byzantines were tempted by the conveniency of the harbor
+to extend their habitations on that side beyond the modern
+limits of the Seraglio. The new walls of Constantine stretched
+from the port to the Propontis across the enlarged breadth of the
+triangle, at a distance of fifteen stadia from the ancient fortification;
+and with the city of Byzantium they inclosed five of the
+seven hills which, to the eyes of those who approach Constantinople,
+appear to rise above each other in beautiful order. About
+a century after the death of the founder, the new buildings, extending
+on one side up the harbor and on the other along the
+Propontis, already covered the narrow ridge of the sixth and the
+broad summit of the seventh hill. The necessity of protecting
+those suburbs from the incessant inroads of the barbarians engaged
+the younger Theodosius to surround his capital with an
+adequate and permanent inclosure of walls. From the eastern
+promontory to the Golden Gate, the extreme length of Constantinople
+was about three Roman miles; the circumference measured
+between ten and eleven, and the surface might be computed as
+equal to about two thousand English acres. It is impossible to
+justify the vain and credulous exaggerations of modern travelers,
+who have sometimes stretched the limits of Constantinople over
+the adjacent villages of the European, and even of the Asiatic
+coast. But the suburbs of Pera and Galata, though situate beyond
+the harbor, may deserve to be considered as a part of the
+city; and this addition may perhaps authorize the measure of a
+Byzantine historian, who assigns sixteen Greek (about fourteen
+Roman) miles for the circumference of his native city. Such an
+extent may not seem unworthy of an imperial residence. Yet
+Constantinople must yield to Babylon and Thebes, to ancient
+Rome, to London, and even to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>The master of the Roman world, who aspired to erect an
+eternal monument of the glories of his reign, could employ in
+the prosecution of that great work the wealth, the labor, and all
+that yet remained of the genius of obedient millions. Some estimate
+may be formed of the expense bestowed with imperial liberality
+on the foundation of Constantinople, by the allowance of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 6288]</a></span>
+about two millions five hundred thousand pounds for the construction
+of the walls, the porticos, and the aqueducts. The
+forests that overshadowed the shores of the Euxine, and the
+celebrated quarries of white marble in the little island of Proconnesus,
+supplied an inexhaustible stock of materials, ready to be
+conveyed, by the convenience of a short water carriage, to the
+harbor of Byzantium. A multitude of laborers and artificers
+urged the conclusion of the work with incessant toil; but the impatience
+of Constantine soon discovered that, in the decline of the
+arts, the skill as well as numbers of his architects bore a very
+unequal proportion to the greatness of his designs. The magistrates
+of the most distant provinces were therefore directed to
+institute schools, to appoint professors, and by the hopes of
+rewards and privileges to engage in the study and practice of
+architecture a sufficient number of ingenious youths who had
+received a liberal education. The buildings of the new city were
+executed by such artificers as the reign of Constantine could
+afford; but they were decorated by the hands of the most celebrated
+masters of the age of Pericles and Alexander. To revive
+the genius of Phidias and Lysippus surpassed indeed the power
+of a Roman emperor; but the immortal productions which they
+had bequeathed to posterity were exposed without defense to the
+rapacious vanity of a despot. By his commands the cities of
+Greece and Asia were despoiled of their most valuable ornaments.
+The trophies of memorable wars, the objects of religious
+veneration, the most finished statues of the gods and heroes, of
+the sages and poets of ancient times, contributed to the splendid
+triumph of Constantinople, and gave occasion to the remark
+of the historian Cedrenus, who observes with some enthusiasm
+that nothing seemed wanting except the souls of the illustrious
+men whom these admirable monuments were intended to represent.
+But it is not in the city of Constantine, nor in the declining
+period of an empire, when the human mind was depressed
+by civil and religious slavery, that we should seek for the souls
+of Homer and of Demosthenes.</p>
+
+<p>During the siege of Byzantium, the conqueror had pitched his
+tent on the commanding eminence of the second hill. To perpetuate
+the memory of his success, he chose the same advantageous
+position for the principal Forum, which appears to have
+been of a circular or rather elliptical form. The two opposite
+entrances formed triumphal arches; the porticos which inclosed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 6289]</a></span>
+it on every side were filled with statues; and the centre of the
+Forum was occupied by a lofty column, of which a mutilated
+fragment is now degraded by the appellation of the <i>burnt pillar</i>.
+This column was erected on a pedestal of white marble twenty
+feet high, and was composed of ten pieces of porphyry, each of
+which measured about ten feet in height and about thirty-three
+in circumference. On the summit of the pillar, above one hundred
+and twenty feet from the ground, stood the colossal statue
+of Apollo. It was of bronze, had been transported either from
+Athens or from a town of Phrygia, and was supposed to be the
+work of Phidias. The artist had represented the god of day, or
+as it was afterwards interpreted, the Emperor Constantine himself
+with a sceptre in his right hand, the globe of the world in
+his left, and a crown of rays glittering on his head. The Circus,
+or Hippodrome, was a stately building about four hundred paces
+in length and one hundred in breadth. The space between the
+two <i>met&aelig;</i> or goals was filled with statues and obelisks; and we
+may still remark a very singular fragment of antiquity&mdash;the
+bodies of three serpents twisted into one pillar of brass. Their
+triple heads had once supported the golden tripod which, after
+the defeat of Xerxes, was consecrated in the temple of Delphi
+by the victorious Greeks. The beauty of the Hippodrome has
+been long since defaced by the rude hands of the Turkish conquerors;
+but under the similar appellation of Atmeidan, it still
+serves as a place of exercise for their horses. From the throne
+whence the Emperor viewed the Circensian games, a winding
+staircase descended to the palace: a magnificent edifice which
+scarcely yielded to the residence of Rome itself, and which, together
+with the dependent courts, gardens, and porticos, covered
+a considerable extent of ground upon the banks of the Propontis
+between the Hippodrome and the church of St. Sophia. We
+might likewise celebrate the baths, which still retained the name
+of Zeuxippus, after they had been enriched by the munificence
+of Constantine with lofty columns, various marbles, and above
+threescore statues of bronze. But we should deviate from the
+design of this history if we attempted minutely to describe the
+different buildings or quarters of the city. It may be sufficient
+to observe that whatever could adorn the dignity of a great
+capital, or contribute to the benefit or pleasure of its numerous
+inhabitants, was contained within the walls of Constantinople.
+A particular description, composed about a century after its
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 6290]</a></span>
+foundation, enumerates a capitol or school of learning, a circus,
+two theatres, eight public and one hundred and fifty-three private
+baths, fifty-two porticos, five granaries, eight aqueducts or reservoirs
+of water, four spacious halls for the meetings of the senate
+or courts of justice, fourteen churches, fourteen palaces, and four
+thousand three hundred and eighty-eight houses which for their
+size or beauty deserved to be distinguished from the multitude
+of plebeian habitations.</p>
+
+<p>The populousness of his favored city was the next and most
+serious object of the attention of its founder. In the dark ages
+which succeeded the translation of the empire, the remote and
+the immediate consequences of that memorable event were
+strangely confounded by the vanity of the Greeks and the credulity
+of the Latins. It was asserted and believed that all the
+noble families of Rome, the Senate, and the equestrian order,
+with their innumerable attendants, had followed their Emperor
+to the banks of the Propontis; that a spurious race of strangers
+and plebeians was left to possess the solitude of the ancient capital;
+and that the lands of Italy, long since converted into gardens,
+were at once deprived of cultivation and inhabitants. In
+the course of this history such exaggerations will be reduced to
+their just value: yet, since the growth of Constantinople cannot
+be ascribed to the general increase of mankind and of industry,
+it must be admitted that this artificial colony was raised at the
+expense of the ancient cities of the empire. Many opulent senators
+of Rome and of the eastern provinces were probably invited
+by Constantine to adopt for their country the fortunate spot
+which he had chosen for his own residence. The invitations of
+a master are scarcely to be distinguished from commands; and
+the liberality of the Emperor obtained a ready and cheerful obedience.
+He bestowed on his favorites the palaces which he had
+built in the several quarters of the city, assigned them lands
+and pensions for the support of their dignity, and alienated the
+demesnes of Pontus and Asia to grant hereditary estates by the
+easy tenure of maintaining a house in the capital. But these
+encouragements and obligations soon became superfluous, and
+were gradually abolished. Wherever the seat of government
+is fixed, a considerable part of the public revenue will be expended
+by the prince himself, by his ministers, by the officers of
+justice, and by the domestics of the palace. The most wealthy
+of the provincials will be attracted by the powerful motives
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 6291]</a></span>
+of interest and duty, of amusement and curiosity. A third and
+more numerous class of inhabitants will insensibly be formed,
+of servants, of artificers, and of merchants, who derive their subsistence
+from their own labor and from the wants or luxury of
+the superior ranks. In less than a century Constantinople disputed
+with Rome itself the pre-eminence of riches and numbers.
+New piles of buildings, crowded together with too little regard to
+health or convenience, scarcely allowed the intervals of narrow
+streets for the perpetual throng of men, of horses, and of carriages.
+The allotted space of ground was insufficient to contain
+the increasing people; and the additional foundations, which on
+either side were advanced into the sea, might alone have composed
+a very considerable city.</p>
+
+<p>The frequent and regular distributions of wine and oil, of
+corn or bread, of money or provisions, had almost exempted the
+poorer citizens of Rome from the necessity of labor. The magnificence
+of the first C&aelig;sars was in some measure imitated by the
+founder of Constantinople; but his liberality, however it might
+excite the applause of the people, has incurred the censure of
+posterity. A nation of legislators and conquerors might assert
+their claim to the harvests of Africa, which had been purchased
+with their blood; and it was artfully contrived by Augustus that
+in the enjoyment of plenty the Romans should lose the memory
+of freedom. But the prodigality of Constantine could not be excused
+by any consideration either of public or private interest;
+and the annual tribute of corn imposed upon Egypt for the benefit
+of his new capital was applied to feed a lazy and insolent
+populace at the expense of the husbandmen of an industrious
+province. Some other regulations of this Emperor are less liable
+to blame, but they are less deserving of notice. He divided
+Constantinople into fourteen regions or quarters, dignified the
+public council with the appellation of senate, communicated to
+the citizens the privileges of Italy, and bestowed on the rising
+city the title of colony, the first and most favored daughter of
+ancient Rome. The venerable parent still maintained the legal
+and acknowledged supremacy which was due to her age, her
+dignity, and to the remembrance of her former greatness.</p>
+
+<p>As Constantine urged the progress of the work with the impatience
+of a lover, the walls, the porticos, and the principal edifices
+were completed in a few years, or according to another
+account, in a few months; but this extraordinary diligence should
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 6292]</a></span>
+excite the less admiration, since many of the buildings were
+finished in so hasty and imperfect a manner that under the succeeding
+reign they were preserved with difficulty from impending
+ruin. But while they displayed the vigor and freshness of youth,
+the founder prepared to celebrate the dedication of his city. The
+games and largesses which crowned the pomp of this memorable
+festival may easily be supposed; but there is one circumstance of
+a more singular and permanent nature which ought not entirely
+to be overlooked. As often as the birthday of the city returned,
+the statue of Constantine, framed by his order, of gilt wood, and
+bearing in its right hand a small image of the genius of the
+place, was erected on a triumphal car. The guards, carrying
+white tapers and clothed in their richest apparel, accompanied the
+solemn procession as it moved through the Hippodrome. When
+it was opposite to the throne of the reigning emperor, he rose
+from his seat, and with grateful reverence adored the memory
+of his predecessor. At the festival of the dedication an edict,
+engraved on a column of marble, bestowed the title of <span class="smcap">Second</span>
+or <span class="smcap">New Rome</span> on the city of Constantine. But the name of Constantinople
+has prevailed over that honorable epithet, and after
+the revolution of fourteen centuries still perpetuates the fame of
+its author.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="CHARACTER_OF_CONSTANTINE" id="CHARACTER_OF_CONSTANTINE"></a>CHARACTER OF CONSTANTINE</h3>
+
+<p>The character of the prince who removed the seat of empire,
+and introduced such important changes into the civil and
+religious constitution of his country, has fixed the attention
+and divided the opinions of mankind. By the grateful zeal of
+the Christians, the deliverer of the Church has been decorated
+with every attribute of a hero and even of a saint, while the
+discontent of the vanquished party has compared Constantine to
+the most abhorred of those tyrants who by their vice and weakness
+dishonored the imperial purple. The same passions have
+in some degree been perpetuated to succeeding generations, and
+the character of Constantine is considered, even in the present
+age, as an object either of satire or of panegyric. By the impartial
+union of those defects which are confessed by his warmest
+admirers, and of those virtues which are acknowledged by his
+most implacable enemies, we might hope to delineate a just
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 6293]</a></span>
+portrait of that extraordinary man which the truth and candor
+of history should adopt without a blush. But it would soon appear,
+that the vain attempt to blend such discordant colors and
+to reconcile such inconsistent qualities must produce a figure
+monstrous rather than human, unless it is viewed in its proper
+and distinct lights, by a careful separation of the different periods
+of the reign of Constantine.</p>
+
+<p>The person as well as the mind of Constantine had been
+enriched by nature with her choicest endowments. His stature
+was lofty, his countenance majestic, his deportment graceful, his
+strength and activity were displayed in every manly exercise, and
+from his earliest youth to a very advanced season of life he preserved
+the vigor of his constitution by a strict adherence to the
+domestic virtues of chastity and temperance. He delighted in
+the social intercourse of familiar conversation; and though he
+might sometimes indulge his disposition to raillery with less
+reserve than was required by the severe dignity of his station,
+the courtesy and liberality of his manners gained the hearts of
+all who approached him. The sincerity of his friendship has
+been suspected; yet he showed on some occasions that he was
+not incapable of a warm and lasting attachment. The disadvantage
+of an illiterate education had not prevented him from forming
+a just estimate of the value of learning; and the arts and
+sciences derived some encouragement from the munificent protection
+of Constantine. In the dispatch of business, his diligence
+was indefatigable; and the active powers of his mind were
+almost continually exercised in reading, writing, or meditating,
+in giving audience to ambassadors, and in examining the complaints
+of his subjects. Even those who censured the propriety
+of his measures were compelled to acknowledge that he possessed
+magnanimity to conceive and patience to execute the
+most arduous designs, without being checked either by the prejudices
+of education or by the clamors of the multitude. In the
+field he infused his own intrepid spirit into the troops, whom he
+conducted with the talents of a consummate general; and to his
+abilities, rather than to his fortune, we may ascribe the signal
+victories which he obtained over the foreign and domestic foes
+of the republic. He loved glory as the reward, perhaps as the
+motive, of his labors. The boundless ambition which, from the
+moment of his accepting the purple at York, appears as the ruling
+passion of his soul, may be justified by the dangers of his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 6294]</a></span>
+own situation, by the character of his rivals, by the consciousness
+of superior merit, and by the prospect that his success would
+enable him to restore peace and order to the distracted empire.
+In his civil wars against Maxentius and Licinius he had engaged
+on his side the inclinations of the people, who compared the undissembled
+vices of those tyrants with the spirit of wisdom and
+justice which seemed to direct the general tenor of the administration
+of Constantine.</p>
+
+<p>Had Constantine fallen on the banks of the Tiber, or even in
+the plains of Hadrianople, such is the character which, with a few
+exceptions, he might have transmitted to posterity. But the conclusion
+of his reign (according to the moderate and indeed tender
+sentence of a writer of the same age) degraded him from the
+rank which he had acquired among the most deserving of the
+Roman princes. In the life of Augustus we behold the tyrant
+of the republic converted, almost by imperceptible degrees, into
+the father of his country and of human kind. In that of Constantine
+we may contemplate a hero who had so long inspired
+his subjects with love and his enemies with terror, degenerating
+into a cruel and dissolute monarch, corrupted by his fortune or
+raised by conquest above the necessity of dissimulation.  The
+general peace which he maintained during the last fourteen years
+of his reign was a period of apparent splendor rather than of
+real prosperity; and the old age of Constantine was disgraced by
+the opposite yet reconcilable vices of rapaciousness and prodigality.
+The accumulated treasures found in the palaces of Maxentius
+and Licinius were lavishly consumed; the various innovations
+introduced by the conqueror were attended with an increasing
+expense; the cost of his buildings, his court, and his festivals
+required an immediate and plentiful supply; and the oppression
+of the people was the only fund which could support the magnificence
+of the sovereign.  His unworthy favorites, enriched by
+the boundless liberality of their master, usurped with impunity
+the privilege of rapine and corruption. A secret but universal
+decay was felt in every part of the public administration; and
+the Emperor himself, though he still retained the obedience,
+gradually lost the esteem of his subjects.  The dress and manners
+which towards the decline of life he chose to affect, served
+only to degrade him in the eyes of mankind. The Asiatic pomp
+which had been adopted by the pride of Diocletian assumed an
+air of softness and effeminacy in the person of Constantine. He is
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 6295]</a></span>
+represented with false hair of various colors, laboriously arranged
+by the skillful artists of the times; a diadem of a new and more
+expensive fashion; a profusion of gems and pearls, of collars and
+bracelets, and a variegated flowing robe of silk, most curiously
+embroidered with flowers of gold. In such apparel, scarcely to
+be excused by the youth and folly of Elagabulus, we are at a
+loss to discover the wisdom of an aged monarch and the simplicity
+of a Roman veteran. A mind thus relaxed by prosperity and
+indulgence was incapable of rising to that magnanimity which
+disdains suspicion and dares to forgive. The deaths of Maximian
+and Licinius may perhaps be justified by the maxims of
+policy as they are taught in the schools of tyrants; but an impartial
+narrative of the executions, or rather murders, which sullied
+the declining age of Constantine, will suggest to our most
+candid thoughts the idea of a prince who could sacrifice without
+reluctance the laws of justice and the feelings of nature, to the
+dictates either of his passions or of his interest.</p>
+
+<p>The same fortune which so invariably followed the standard
+of Constantine seemed to secure the hopes and comforts of his
+domestic life. Those among his predecessors who had enjoyed
+the longest and most prosperous reigns, Augustus, Trajan, and
+Diocletian, had been disappointed of posterity; and the frequent
+revolutions had never allowed sufficient time for any imperial family
+to grow up and multiply under the shade of the purple. But
+the royalty of the Flavian line, which had been first ennobled by
+the Gothic Claudius, descended through several generations; and
+Constantine himself derived from his royal father the hereditary
+honors which he transmitted to his children. The Emperor had
+been twice married. Minervina, the obscure but lawful object of
+his youthful attachment, had left him only one son, who was
+called Crispus. By Fausta, the daughter of Maximian, he had
+three daughters, and three sons known by the kindred names
+of Constantine, Constantius, and Constans. The unambitious
+brothers of the great Constantine, Julius Constantius, Dalmatius,
+and Hannibalianus, were permitted to enjoy the most honorable
+rank and the most affluent fortune that could be consistent with
+a private station. The youngest of the three lived without a
+name and died without posterity. His two elder brothers obtained
+in marriage the daughters of wealthy senators, and propagated
+new branches of the imperial race. Gallus and Julian
+afterwards became the most illustrious of the children of Julius
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 6296]</a></span>
+Constantius the <i>Patrician</i>. The two sons of Dalmatius, who
+had been decorated with the vain title of <i>censor</i>, were named
+Dalmatius and Hannibalianus. The two sisters of the great
+Constantine, Anastasia and Eutropia, were bestowed on Optatus
+and Nepotianus, two senators of noble birth and of consular dignity.
+His third sister, Constantia, was distinguished by her pre-eminence
+of greatness and of misery. She remained the widow
+of the vanquished Licinius; and it was by her entreaties that
+an innocent boy, the offspring of their marriage, preserved for
+some time his life, the title of Caesar, and a precarious hope of
+the succession. Besides the females and the allies of the Flavian
+house, ten or twelve males to whom the language of modern
+courts would apply the title of princes of the blood, seemed,
+according to the order of their birth, to be destined either to inherit
+or to support the throne of Constantine. But in less than
+thirty years this numerous and increasing family was reduced
+to the persons of Constantius and Julian, who alone had survived
+a series of crimes and calamities such as the tragic poets have
+deplored in the devoted lines of Pelops and of Cadmus.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="DEATH_OF_JULIAN" id="DEATH_OF_JULIAN"></a>DEATH OF JULIAN</h3>
+
+<p>While Julian struggled with the almost insuperable difficulties
+of his situation, the silent hours of the night were
+still devoted to study and contemplation. Whenever he
+closed his eyes in short and interrupted slumbers, his mind was
+agitated with painful anxiety; nor can it be thought surprising
+that the Genius of the Empire should once more appear before
+him, covering with a funeral veil his head and his horn of
+abundance, and slowly retiring from the imperial tent. The
+monarch started from his couch, and stepping forth to refresh
+his wearied spirits with the coolness of the midnight air, he beheld
+a fiery meteor which shot athwart the sky and suddenly
+vanished. Julian was convinced that he had seen the menacing
+countenance of the god of war; the council which he summoned
+of Tuscan Haruspices unanimously pronounced that he should
+abstain from action; but on this occasion necessity and reason
+were more prevalent than superstition, and the trumpets sounded
+at the break of day. The army marched through a hilly country,
+and the hills had been secretly occupied by the Persians.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 6297]</a></span>
+Julian led the van with the skill and attention of a consummate
+general; he was alarmed by the intelligence that his rear was
+suddenly attacked. The heat of the weather had tempted him
+to lay aside his cuirass; but he snatched a shield from one of his
+attendants and hastened with a sufficient reinforcement to the
+relief of the rear guard. A similar danger recalled the intrepid
+prince to the defense of the front; and as he galloped between
+the columns, the centre of the left was attacked and almost
+overpowered by a furious charge of the Persian cavalry and elephants.
+This huge body was soon defeated by the well-timed
+evolution of the light infantry, who aimed their weapons, with
+dexterity and effect, against the backs of the horsemen and the
+legs of the elephants. The Barbarians fled; and Julian, who was
+foremost in every danger, animated the pursuit with his voice
+and gestures. His trembling guards, scattered and oppressed
+by the disorderly throng of friends and enemies, reminded their
+fearless sovereign that he was without armor, and conjured him
+to decline the fall of the impending ruin. As they exclaimed, a
+cloud of darts and arrows was discharged from the flying squadrons;
+and a javelin, after razing the skin of his arm, transpierced
+the ribs and fixed in the inferior part of the liver. Julian attempted
+to draw the deadly weapon from his side, but his fingers
+were cut by the sharpness of the steel, and he fell senseless
+from his horse. His guards flew to his relief, and the wounded
+Emperor was gently raised from the ground and conveyed out
+of the tumult of the battle into an adjacent tent. The report of
+the melancholy event passed from rank to rank; but the grief
+of the Romans inspired them with invincible valor and the
+desire of revenge. The bloody and obstinate conflict was maintained
+by the two armies till they were separated by the total
+darkness of the night. The Persians derived some honor from
+the advantage which they obtained against the left wing, where
+Anatolius, master of the offices, was slain, and the pr&aelig;fect Sallust
+very narrowly escaped. But the event of the day was
+adverse to the Barbarians. They abandoned the field, their two
+generals Meranes and Nohordates, fifty nobles or satraps, and
+a multitude of their bravest soldiers; and the success of the
+Romans, if Julian had survived, might have been improved into
+a decisive and useful victory.</p>
+
+<p>The first words that Julian uttered after his recovery from
+the fainting fit into which he had been thrown by loss of blood,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 6298]</a></span>
+were expressive of his martial spirit. He called for his horse
+and arms, and was impatient to rush into the battle. His remaining
+strength was exhausted by the painful effort, and the
+surgeons who examined his wound discovered the symptoms of
+approaching death.  He employed the awful moments with the
+firm temper of a hero and a sage; the philosophers who had
+accompanied him in this fatal expedition compared the tent of
+Julian with the prison of Socrates; and the spectators whom
+duty or friendship or curiosity had assembled round his couch
+listened with respectful grief to the funeral oration of their dying
+emperor:&mdash;"Friends and fellow soldiers, the seasonable period of
+my departure is now arrived, and I discharge, with the cheerfulness
+of a ready debtor, the demands of nature. I have learned
+from philosophy how much the soul is more excellent than the
+body; and that the separation of the nobler substance should be
+the subject of joy rather than of affliction. I have learned from
+religion that an earthly death has often been the reward of piety;
+and I accept, as a favor of the gods, the mortal stroke that
+secures me from the danger of disgracing a character which has
+hitherto been supported by virtue and fortitude. I die without
+remorse, as I have lived without guilt. I am pleased to reflect
+on the innocence of my private life; and I can affirm with confidence
+that the supreme authority, that emanation of the Divine
+power, has been preserved in my hands pure and immaculate.
+Detesting the corrupt and destructive maxims of despotism, I
+have considered the happiness of the people as the end of government.
+Submitting my actions to the laws of prudence, of
+justice, and of moderation, I have trusted the event to the care
+of Providence. Peace was the object of my counsels as long
+as peace was consistent with the public welfare; but when the
+imperious voice of my country summoned me to arms, I exposed
+my person to the dangers of war with the clear foreknowledge
+(which I had acquired from the art of divination) that I was destined
+to fall by the sword. I now offer my tribute of gratitude
+to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered me to perish by the
+cruelty of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of conspiracy, or by the
+slow tortures of lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst
+of an honorable career, a splendid and glorious departure from
+this world; and I hold it equally absurd, equally base, to solicit
+or to decline the stroke of fate. Thus much I have attempted to
+say; but my strength fails me, and I feel the approach of death.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 6299]</a></span>
+I shall cautiously refrain from any word that may tend to influence
+your suffrages in the election of an emperor. My choice
+might be imprudent or injudicious; and if it should not be ratified
+by the consent of the army, it might be fatal to the person
+whom I should recommend. I shall only, as a good citizen,
+express my hopes that the Romans may be blessed with the
+government of a virtuous sovereign." After this discourse, which
+Julian pronounced in a firm and gentle tone of voice, he distributed
+by a military testament the remains of his private fortune;
+and making some inquiry why Anatolius was not present, he
+understood from the answer of Sallust that Anatolius was killed,
+and bewailed with amiable inconsistency the loss of his friend.
+At the same time he reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators,
+and conjured them not to disgrace by unmanly tears the
+fate of a prince who in a few moments would be united with
+heaven and with the stars. The spectators were silent; and
+Julian entered into a metaphysical argument with the philosophers
+Priscus and Maximus on the nature of the soul. The
+efforts which he made, of mind as well as body, most probably
+hastened his death. His wound began to bleed with fresh violence;
+his respiration was embarrassed by the swelling of the
+veins; he called for a draught of cold water, and as soon as he
+had drunk it expired without pain, about the hour of midnight.
+Such was the end of that extraordinary man, in the thirty-second
+year of his age, after a reign of one year and about eight months
+from the death of Constantius. In his last moments he displayed,
+perhaps with some ostentation, the love of virtue and of fame
+which had been the ruling passions of his life.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_FALL_OF_ROME" id="THE_FALL_OF_ROME"></a>THE FALL OF ROME</h3>
+
+<p>At the hour of midnight the Salarian gate was silently opened,
+and the inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound
+of the Gothic trumpet. Eleven hundred and sixty-three
+years after the foundation of Rome, the imperial city which had
+subdued and civilized so considerable a part of mankind was
+delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Germany and
+Scythia.</p>
+
+<p>The proclamation of Alaric, when he forced his entrance into
+a vanquished city, discovered however some regard for the laws
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 6300]</a></span>
+of humanity and religion. He encouraged his troops boldly to
+seize the rewards of valor, and to enrich themselves with the
+spoils of a wealthy and effeminate people; but he exhorted them
+at the same time to spare the lives of the unresisting citizens, and
+to respect the churches of the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul
+as holy and inviolable sanctuaries. Amidst the horrors of a
+nocturnal tumult, several of the Christian Goths displayed the
+fervor of a recent conversion; and some instances of their uncommon
+piety and moderation are related, and perhaps adorned,
+by the zeal of ecclesiastical writers. While the Barbarians roamed
+through the city in quest of prey, the humble dwelling of an
+aged virgin who had devoted her life to the service of the altar
+was forced open by one of the powerful Goths. He immediately
+demanded, though in civil language, all the gold and silver in
+her possession; and was astonished at the readiness with which
+she conducted him to a splendid hoard of massy plate of the
+richest materials and the most curious workmanship. The Barbarian
+viewed with wonder and delight this valuable acquisition,
+till he was interrupted by a serious admonition addressed to
+him in the following words: "These," said she, "are the consecrated
+vessels belonging to St. Peter; if you presume to touch
+them, the sacrilegious deed will remain on your conscience. For
+my part, I dare not keep what I am unable to defend." The
+Gothic captain, struck with reverential awe, dispatched a messenger
+to inform the King of the treasure which he had discovered,
+and received a peremptory order from Alaric that all
+the consecrated plate and ornaments should be transported, without
+damage or delay, to the church of the Apostle. From the
+extremity, perhaps, of the Quirinal hill, to the distant quarter of
+the Vatican, a numerous detachment of Goths, marching in order
+of battle through the principal streets, protected with glittering
+arms the long train of their devout companions, who bore aloft
+on their heads the sacred vessels of gold and silver; and the
+martial shouts of the Barbarians were mingled with the sound of
+religious psalmody. From all the adjacent houses a crowd of
+Christians hastened to join this edifying procession; and a multitude
+of fugitives, without distinction of age, or rank, or even
+of sect, had the good fortune to escape to the secure and hospitable
+sanctuary of the Vatican. The learned work 'Concerning
+the City of God' was professedly composed by St. Augustine to
+justify the ways of Providence in the destruction of the Roman
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 6301]</a></span>
+greatness. He celebrates with peculiar satisfaction this memorable
+triumph of Christ, and insults his adversaries by challenging
+them to produce some similar example of a town taken by storm,
+in which the fabulous gods of antiquity had been able to protect
+either themselves or their deluded votaries.</p>
+
+<p>In the sack of Rome, some rare and extraordinary examples
+of Barbarian virtue have been deservedly applauded. But the
+holy precincts of the Vatican and the Apostolic churches could
+receive a very small proportion of the Roman people; many
+thousand warriors, more especially of the Huns who served under
+the standard of Alaric, were strangers to the name, or at
+least to the faith, of Christ; and we may suspect without any
+breach of charity or candor that in the hour of savage license,
+when every passion was inflamed and every restraint was removed,
+the precepts of the gospel seldom influenced the behavior
+of the Gothic Christians. The writers the best disposed to
+exaggerate their clemency have freely confessed that a cruel
+slaughter was made of the Romans, and that the streets of the
+city were filled with dead bodies, which remained without burial
+during the general consternation. The despair of the citizens was
+sometimes converted into fury; and whenever the Barbarians were
+provoked by opposition, they extended the promiscuous massacre
+to the feeble, the innocent, and the helpless. The private revenge
+of forty thousand slaves was exercised without pity or remorse;
+and the ignominious lashes which they had formerly received
+were washed away in the blood of the guilty or obnoxious families.
+The matrons and virgins of Rome were exposed to injuries
+more dreadful, in the apprehension of chastity, than death
+itself....</p>
+
+<p>The want of youth, or beauty, or chastity protected the greatest
+part of the Roman women from the danger of a rape. But
+avarice is an insatiate and universal passion, since the enjoyment
+of almost every object that can afford pleasure to the different
+tastes and tempers of mankind may be procured by the possession
+of wealth. In the pillage of Rome, a just preference was
+given to gold and jewels, which contain the greatest value in
+the smallest compass and weight; but after these portable riches
+had been removed by the more diligent robbers, the palaces of
+Rome were rudely stripped of their splendid and costly furniture.
+The sideboards of massy plate, and the variegated wardrobes
+of silk and purple, were irregularly piled in the wagons
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 6302]</a></span>
+that always followed the march of a Gothic army. The most
+exquisite works of art were roughly handled or wantonly destroyed;
+many a statue was melted for the sake of the precious
+materials; and many a vase, in the division of the spoil, was
+shivered into fragments by the stroke of a battle-axe. The acquisition
+of riches served only to stimulate the avarice of the
+rapacious Barbarians, who proceeded by threats, by blows, and by
+tortures, to force from their prisoners the confession of hidden
+treasure. Visible splendor and expense were alleged as the
+proof of a plentiful fortune; the appearance of poverty was imputed
+to a parsimonious disposition; and the obstinacy of some
+misers, who endured the most cruel torments before they would
+discover the secret object of their affection, was fatal to many
+unhappy wretches, who expired under the lash for refusing to
+reveal their imaginary treasures. The edifices of Rome, though
+the damage has been much exaggerated, received some injury
+from the violence of the Goths. At their entrance through the
+Salarian gate, they fired the adjacent houses to guide their
+march and to distract the attention of the citizens; the flames,
+which encountered no obstacle in the disorder of the night, consumed
+many private and public buildings; and the ruins of the
+palace of Sallust remained, in the age of Justinian, a stately
+monument of the Gothic conflagration. Yet a contemporary historian
+has observed that fire could scarcely consume the enormous
+beams of solid brass, and that the strength of man was
+insufficient to subvert the foundations of ancient structures.
+Some truth may possibly be concealed in his devout assertion
+that the wrath of Heaven supplied the imperfections of hostile
+rage, and that the proud Forum of Rome, decorated with the
+statues of so many gods and heroes, was leveled in the dust by
+the stroke of lightning....</p>
+
+<p>It was not easy to compute the multitudes who, from an
+honorable station and a prosperous future, were suddenly reduced
+to the miserable condition of captives and exiles.... The
+nations who invaded the Roman empire had driven before them
+into Italy whole troops of hungry and affrighted provincials,
+less apprehensive of servitude than of famine. The calamities
+of Rome and Italy dispersed the inhabitants to the most lonely,
+the most secure, the most distant places of refuge.... The
+Italian fugitives were dispersed through the provinces, along the
+coast of Egypt and Asia, as far as Constantinople and Jerusalem;
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 6303]</a></span>
+and the village of Bethlem, the solitary residence of St. Jerom
+and his female converts, was crowded with illustrious beggars
+of either sex and every age, who excited the public compassion
+by the remembrance of their past fortune. This awful catastrophe
+of Rome filled the astonished empire with grief and
+terror. So interesting a contrast of greatness and ruin disposed
+the fond credulity of the people to deplore, and even to exaggerate,
+the afflictions of the queen of cities. The clergy, who
+applied to recent events the lofty metaphors of Oriental prophecy,
+were sometimes tempted to confound the destruction of the
+capital and the dissolution of the globe.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="SILK" id="SILK"></a>SILK</h3>
+
+<p>I need not explain that <i>silk</i> is originally spun from the bowels
+of a caterpillar, and that it composes the golden tomb from
+whence a worm emerges in the form of a butterfly. Till the
+reign of Justinian, the silkworms who feed on the leaves of the
+white mulberry-tree were confined to China; those of the pine,
+the oak, and the ash were common in the forests both of Asia
+and Europe: but as their education is more difficult, and their
+produce more uncertain, they were generally neglected, except
+in the little island of Ceos, near the coast of Attica. A thin
+gauze was procured from their webs, and this Cean manufacture,
+the invention of a woman, for female use, was long admired
+both in the East and at Rome. Whatever suspicions may be
+raised by the garments of the Medes and Assyrians, Virgil is
+the most ancient writer who expressly mentions the soft wool
+which was combed from the trees of the Seres or Chinese; and
+this natural error, less marvelous than the truth, was slowly
+corrected by the knowledge of a valuable insect, the first artificer
+of the luxury of nations. That rare and elegant luxury
+was censured, in the reign of Tiberius, by the gravest of the
+Romans; and Pliny, in affected though forcible language, has
+condemned the thirst of gain which explores the last confines of
+the earth for the pernicious purpose of exposing to the public
+eye naked draperies and transparent matrons. A dress which
+showed the turn of the limbs, the color of the skin, might gratify
+vanity or provoke desire; the silks which had been closely
+woven in China were sometimes unraveled by the Ph&#339;nician
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 6304]</a></span>
+women, and the precious materials were multiplied by a looser
+texture and the intermixture of linen threads. Two hundred
+years after the age of Pliny the use of pure or even of mixed
+silks was confined to the female sex, till the opulent citizens of
+Rome and the provinces were insensibly familiarized with the
+example of Elagabalus, the first who, by this effeminate habit,
+had sullied the dignity of an emperor and a man. Aurelian
+complained that a pound of silk was sold at Rome for twelve
+ounces of gold; but the supply increased with the demand, and
+the price diminished with the supply. If accident or monopoly
+sometimes raised the value even above the standard of Aurelian,
+the manufacturers of Tyre and Berytus were sometimes compelled,
+by the operation of the same causes, to content themselves
+with a ninth part of that extravagant rate. A law was
+thought necessary to discriminate the dress of comedians from
+that of senators; and of the silk exported from its native country
+the far greater part was consumed by the subjects of Justinian.
+They were still more intimately acquainted with a shell-fish of
+the Mediterranean, surnamed the silkworm of the sea: the fine
+wool or hair by which the mother-of-pearl affixes itself to the
+rock is now manufactured for curiosity rather than use; and a
+robe obtained from the same singular materials was the gift of
+the Roman Emperor to the satraps of Armenia.</p>
+
+<p>A valuable merchandise of small bulk is capable of defraying
+the expense of land carriage; and the caravans traversed the
+whole latitude of Asia in two hundred and forty-three days from
+the Chinese Ocean to the sea-coast of Syria. Silk was immediately
+delivered to the Romans by the Persian merchants who frequented
+the fairs of Armenia and Nisibis; but this trade, which
+in the intervals of truce was oppressed by avarice and jealousy,
+was totally interrupted by the long wars of the rival monarchies.
+The great king might proudly number Sogdiana, and even
+<i>Serica</i>, among the provinces of his empire: but his real dominion
+was bounded by the Oxus; and his useful intercourse with the
+Sogdoites beyond the river depended on the pleasure of their
+conquerors the white Huns, and the Turks, who successively
+reigned over that industrious people. Yet the most savage dominion
+has not extirpated the seeds of agriculture and commerce,
+in a region which is celebrated as one of the four gardens of
+Asia; the cities of Samarcand and Bochara are advantageously
+seated for the exchange of its various productions; and their
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 6305]</a></span>
+merchants purchased from the Chinese the raw or manufactured
+silk which they transported into Persia for the use of the Roman
+Empire. In the vain capital of China, the Sogdian caravans were
+entertained as the suppliant embassies of tributary kingdoms;
+and if they returned in safety, the bold adventure was rewarded
+with exorbitant gain. But the difficult and perilous march from
+Samarcand to the first town of Shensi could not be performed
+in less than sixty, eighty, or one hundred days: as soon as they
+had passed the Jaxartes they entered the desert; and the wandering
+hordes, unless they are restrained by armies and garrisons,
+have always considered the citizen and the traveler as the
+objects of lawful rapine. To escape the Tartar robbers and the
+tyrants of Persia, the silk caravans explored a more southern
+road; they traversed the mountains of Thibet, descended the
+streams of the Ganges or the Indus, and patiently expected, in
+the ports of Guzerat and Malabar, the annual fleets of the West.
+But the dangers of the desert were found less intolerable than
+toil, hunger, and the loss of time; the attempt was seldom renewed,
+and the only European who has passed that unfrequented
+way applauds his own diligence, that in nine months after his
+departure from Pekin, he reached the mouth of the Indus. The
+ocean, however, was open to the free communication of mankind.
+From the great river to the tropic of Cancer, the provinces
+of China were subdued and civilized by the emperors of
+the North; they were filled about the time of the Christian era
+with cities and men, mulberry-trees and their precious inhabitants;
+and if the Chinese, with the knowledge of the compass,
+had possessed the genius of the Greeks or Ph&#339;nicians, they
+might have spread their discoveries over the southern hemisphere.
+I am not qualified to examine, and I am not disposed to believe,
+their distant voyages to the Persian Gulf or the Cape of Good
+Hope; but their ancestors might equal the labors and success
+of the present race, and the sphere of their navigation might
+extend from the Isles of Japan to the Straits of Malacca,&mdash;the pillars,
+if we may apply that name, of an Oriental Hercules. Without
+losing sight of land, they might sail along the coast to the
+extreme promontory of Achin, which is annually visited by ten
+or twelve ships laden with the productions, the manufactures,
+and even the artificers of China; the Island of Sumatra and the
+opposite peninsula are faintly delineated as the regions of gold
+and silver; and the trading cities named in the geography of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 6306]</a></span>
+Ptolemy may indicate that this wealth was not solely derived
+from the mines. The direct interval between Sumatra and Ceylon
+is about three hundred leagues: the Chinese and Indian navigators
+were conducted by the flight of birds and periodical winds;
+and the ocean might be securely traversed in square-built ships,
+which instead of iron were sewed together with the strong
+thread of the cocoanut. Ceylon, Serendib, or Taprobana, was
+divided between two hostile princes; one of whom possessed the
+mountains, the elephants, and the luminous carbuncle, and the
+other enjoyed the more solid riches of domestic industry, foreign
+trade, and the capacious harbor of Trinquemale, which received
+and dismissed the fleets of the East and West. In this hospitable
+isle, at an equal distance (as it was computed) from their
+respective countries, the silk merchants of China, who had collected
+in their voyages aloes, cloves, nutmeg, and sandal-wood,
+maintained a free and beneficial commerce with the inhabitants
+of the Persian Gulf. The subjects of the great king exalted,
+without a rival, his power and magnificence; and the Roman, who
+confounded their vanity by comparing his paltry coin with a gold
+medal of the Emperor Anastasius, had sailed to Ceylon in an
+&AElig;thiopian ship as a simple passenger.</p>
+
+<p>As silk became of indispensable use, the Emperor Justinian
+saw with concern that the Persians had occupied by land and sea
+the monopoly of this important supply, and that the wealth of
+his subjects was continually drained by a nation of enemies and
+idolaters. An active government would have restored the trade
+of Egypt and the navigation of the Red Sea, which had decayed
+with the prosperity of the empire; and the Roman vessels might
+have sailed, for the purchase of silk, to the ports of Ceylon, of
+Malacca, or even of China. Justinian embraced a more humble
+expedient, and solicited the aid of his Christian allies, the
+&AElig;thiopians of Abyssinia, who had recently acquired the arts of
+navigation, the spirit of trade, and the seaport of Adulis, still
+decorated with the trophies of a Grecian conqueror. Along the
+African coast they penetrated to the Equator in search of gold,
+emeralds, and aromatics; but they wisely declined an unequal
+competition, in which they must be always prevented by the vicinity
+of the Persians to the markets of India; and the Emperor
+submitted to the disappointment till his wishes were gratified
+by an unexpected event. The gospel had been preached to the
+Indians; a bishop already governed the Christians of St. Thomas
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 6307]</a></span>
+on the pepper coast of Malabar; a church was planted in Ceylon,
+and the missionaries pursued the footsteps of commerce to the
+extremities of Asia. Two Persian monks had long resided in
+China, perhaps in the royal city of Nankin, the seat of a monarch
+addicted to foreign superstitions, and who actually received
+an embassy from the Isle of Ceylon. Amidst their pious occupations
+they viewed with a curious eye the common dress of the
+Chinese, the manufactures of silk, and the myriads of silkworms,
+whose education (either on trees or in houses) had once been
+considered as the labor of queens. They soon discovered that it
+was impracticable to transport the short-lived insect, but that in
+the eggs a numerous progeny might be preserved and multiplied
+in a distant climate. Religion or interest had more power
+over the Persian monks than the love of their country: after a
+long journey they arrived at Constantinople, imparted their project
+to the Emperor, and were liberally encouraged by the gifts
+and promises of Justinian. To the historians of that prince, a
+campaign at the foot of Mount Caucasus has seemed more deserving
+of a minute relation than the labors of these missionaries
+of commerce, who again entered China, deceived a jealous people
+by concealing the eggs of the silkworm in a hollow cane,
+and returned in triumph with the spoils of the East. Under
+their direction the eggs were hatched at the proper season by
+the artificial heat of dung; the worms were fed with mulberry
+leaves; they lived and labored in a foreign climate; a sufficient
+number of butterflies were saved to propagate the race, and trees
+were planted to supply the nourishment of the rising generations.
+Experience and reflection corrected the errors of a new
+attempt, and the Sogdoite ambassadors acknowledged in the succeeding
+reign that the Romans were not inferior to the natives
+of China in the education of the insects and the manufactures
+of silk, in which both China and Constantinople have been surpassed
+by the industry of modern Europe. I am not insensible
+of the benefits of elegant luxury; yet I reflect with some pain
+that if the importers of silk had introduced the art of printing,
+already practiced by the Chinese, the comedies of Menander and
+the entire decades of Livy would have been perpetuated in the
+editions of the sixth century.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 6308]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="MAHOMETS_DEATH_AND_CHARACTER" id="MAHOMETS_DEATH_AND_CHARACTER"></a>MAHOMET'S DEATH AND CHARACTER</h3>
+
+<p>Till the age of sixty-three years, the strength of Mahomet was
+equal to the temporal and spiritual fatigues of his mission.
+His epileptic fits, an absurd calumny of the Greeks, would
+be an object of pity rather than abhorrence; but he seriously
+believed that he was poisoned at Chaibar by the revenge of a
+Jewish female. During four years the health of the prophet
+declined; his infirmities increased; but his mortal disease was a
+fever of fourteen days which deprived him by intervals of the
+use of reason. As soon as he was conscious of his danger, he
+edified his brethren by the humility of his virtue or penitence.
+"If there be any man," said the apostle from the pulpit, "whom
+I have unjustly scourged, I submit my own back to the lash of
+retaliation. Have I aspersed the reputation of a Mussulman? let
+him proclaim <i>my</i> thoughts in the face of the congregation. Has
+any one been despoiled of his goods? the little that I possess shall
+compensate the principal and the interest of the debt." "Yes,"
+replied a voice from the crowd, "I am entitled to three drams of
+silver." Mahomet heard the complaint, satisfied the demand, and
+thanked his creditor for accusing him in this world rather than
+at the day of judgment. He beheld with temperate firmness the
+approach of death; enfranchised his slaves (seventeen men, as
+they are named, and eleven women), minutely directed the order
+of his funeral, and moderated the lamentations of his weeping
+friends, on whom he bestowed the benediction of peace. Till the
+third day before his death, he regularly performed the function
+of public prayer: the choice of Abubeker to supply his place
+appeared to mark that ancient and faithful friend as his successor
+in the sacerdotal and regal office; but he prudently declined the
+risk and envy of a more explicit nomination. At a moment when
+his faculties were visibly impaired, he called for pen and ink to
+write, or more properly, to dictate, a Divine book, the sum and
+accomplishment of all his revelations: a dispute arose in the
+chamber whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority
+of the Koran, and the prophet was forced to reprove the indecent
+vehemence of his disciples. If the slightest credit may be
+afforded to the traditions of his wives and companions, he maintained,
+in the bosom of his family, and to the last moments of
+his life, the dignity of an apostle and the faith of an enthusiast;
+described the visits of Gabriel, who bade an everlasting farewell
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 6309]</a></span>
+to the earth, and expressed his lively confidence not only of the
+mercy but of the favor of the Supreme Being. In a familiar
+discourse he had mentioned his special prerogative, that the
+angel of death was not allowed to take his soul till he had respectfully
+asked the permission of the prophet. The request was
+granted; and Mahomet immediately fell into the agony of his
+dissolution: his head was reclined on the lap of Ayesha, the
+best beloved of all his wives; he fainted with the violence of
+pain; recovering his spirits, he raised his eyes towards the roof
+of the house, and with a steady look, though a faltering voice,
+uttered the last broken though articulate words:&mdash;"O God! ...
+pardon my sins ... Yes ... I come ... among my
+fellow-citizens on high;" and thus peaceably expired on a carpet
+spread upon the floor. An expedition for the conquest of
+Syria was stopped by this mournful event: the army halted at
+the gates of Medina, the chiefs were assembled round their dying
+master. The city, more especially the house, of the prophet, was
+a scene of clamorous sorrow or silent despair: fanaticism alone
+could suggest a ray of hope and consolation. "How can he be
+dead&mdash;our witness, our intercessor, our mediator with God? By
+God, he is not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is wrapped in a
+holy trance, and speedily will he return to his faithful people."
+The evidence of sense was disregarded, and Omar, unsheathing
+his cimeter, threatened to strike off the heads of the infidels who
+should dare to affirm that the prophet was no more. The tumult
+was appeased by the weight and moderation of Abubeker. "Is it
+Mahomet," said he to Omar and the multitude, "or the God of
+Mahomet, whom you worship? The God of Mahomet liveth forever;
+but the apostle was a mortal like ourselves, and according
+to his own prediction, he has experienced the common fate of
+mortality." He was piously interred by the hands of his nearest
+kinsman, on the same spot on which he expired. Medina has
+been sanctified by the death and burial of Mahomet, and the
+innumerable pilgrims of Mecca often turn aside from the way,
+to bow in voluntary devotion before the simple tomb of the
+prophet.</p>
+
+<p>At the conclusion of the life of Mahomet it may perhaps be
+expected that I should balance his faults and virtues, that I
+should decide whether the title of enthusiast or impostor more
+properly belongs to that extraordinary man. Had I been intimately
+conversant with the son of Abdallah, the task would still
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 6310]</a></span>
+be difficult and the success uncertain: at the distance of twelve
+centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade through a cloud of
+religious incense; and could I truly delineate the portrait of an
+hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to the
+solitary of Mount Hera, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the
+conqueror of Arabia. The author of a mighty revolution appears
+to have been endowed with a pious and contemplative disposition;
+so soon as marriage had raised him above the pressure of want,
+he avoided the paths of ambition and avarice; and till the age of
+forty he lived with innocence, and would have died without a
+name.  The unity of God is an idea most congenial to nature
+and reason; and a slight conversation with the Jews and Christians
+would teach him to despise and detest the idolatry of Mecca.
+It was the duty of a man and a citizen to impart the doctrine of
+salvation, to rescue his country from the dominion of sin and
+error.  The energy of a mind incessantly bent on the same
+object would convert a general obligation into a particular call;
+the warm suggestions of the understanding or the fancy would
+be felt as the inspirations of Heaven; the labor of thought would
+expire in rapture and vision; and the inward sensation, the invisible
+monitor, would be described with the form and attributes of
+an angel of God.  From enthusiasm to imposture the step is
+perilous and slippery: the d&aelig;mon of Socrates affords a memorable
+instance how a wise man may deceive himself, how a good
+man may deceive others, how the conscience may slumber in a
+mixed and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary fraud.
+Charity may believe that the original motives of Mahomet were
+those of pure and genuine benevolence; but a human missionary
+is incapable of cherishing the obstinate unbelievers who reject his
+claims, despise his arguments, and persecute his life; he might
+forgive his personal adversaries, he may lawfully hate the enemies
+of God; the stern passions of pride and revenge were
+kindled in the bosom of Mahomet, and he sighed, like the
+prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of the rebels whom he
+had condemned.  The injustice of Mecca and the choice of Medina
+transformed the citizen into a prince, the humble preacher
+into the leader of armies; but his sword was consecrated by the
+example of the saints, and the same God who afflicts a sinful
+world with pestilence and earthquakes might inspire for their conversion
+or chastisement the valor of his servants. In the exercise
+of political government, he was compelled to abate of the stern
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 6311]</a></span>
+rigor of fanaticism, to comply in some measure with the prejudices
+and passions of his followers, and to employ even the vices
+of mankind as the instruments of their salvation. The use of
+fraud and perfidy, of cruelty and injustice, were often subservient
+to the propagation of the faith; and Mahomet commanded or
+approved the assassination of the Jews and idolaters who had
+escaped from the field of battle. By the repetition of such acts
+the character of Mahomet must have been gradually stained; and
+the influence of such pernicious habits would be poorly compensated
+by the practice of the personal and social virtues which
+are necessary to maintain the reputation of a prophet among his
+sectaries and friends. Of his last years, ambition was the ruling
+passion; and a politician will suspect that he secretly smiled (the
+victorious impostor!) at the enthusiasm of his youth and the
+credulity of his proselytes. A philosopher will observe that <i>their</i>
+credulity and <i>his</i> success would tend more strongly to fortify the
+assurance of his Divine mission; that his interest and religion were
+inseparately connected; and that his conscience would be soothed
+by the persuasion that he alone was absolved by the Deity from
+the obligation of positive and moral laws. If he retained any
+vestige of his native innocence, the sins of Mahomet may be
+allowed as an evidence of his sincerity. In the support of truth,
+the arts of fraud and fiction may be deemed less criminal; and he
+would have started at the foulness of the means, had he not
+been satisfied of the importance and justice of the end. Even in
+a conqueror or a priest, I can surprise a word or action of unaffected
+humanity; and the decree of Mahomet that in the sale
+of captives the mothers should never be separated from their
+children, may suspend or moderate the censure of the historian.</p>
+
+<p>The good sense of Mahomet despised the pomp of royalty; the
+apostle of God submitted to the menial offices of the family; he
+kindled the fire, swept the floor, milked the ewes, and mended
+with his own hands his shoes and his woolen garment. Disdaining
+the penance and merit of a hermit, he observed, without
+effort or vanity, the abstemious diet of an Arab and a soldier.
+On solemn occasions he feasted his companions with rustic and
+hospitable plenty; but in his domestic life, many weeks would
+elapse without a fire being kindled on the hearth of the prophet.
+The interdiction of wine was confirmed by his example; his hunger
+was appeased with a sparing allowance of barley bread; he
+delighted in the taste of milk and honey, but his ordinary food
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 6312]</a></span>
+consisted of dates and water. Perfumes and women were the two
+sensual enjoyments which his nature required and his religion
+did not forbid; and Mahomet affirmed that the fervor of his
+devotion was increased by these innocent pleasures. The heat of
+the climate inflames the blood of the Arabs, and their libidinous
+complexion has been noticed by the writers of antiquity. Their
+incontinence was regulated by the civil and religious laws of the
+Koran; their incestuous alliances were blamed; the boundless
+license of polygamy was reduced to four legitimate wives or
+concubines: their rights both of bed and of dowry were equitably
+determined; the freedom of divorce was discouraged; adultery
+was condemned as a capital offense; and fornication in
+either sex was punished with a hundred stripes. Such were the
+calm and rational precepts of the legislator, but in his private
+conduct Mahomet indulged the appetites of a man and abused
+the claims of a prophet. A special revelation dispensed him from
+the laws which he had imposed on his nation: the female sex,
+without reserve, was abandoned to his desires; and this singular
+prerogative excited the envy rather than the scandal, the veneration
+rather than the envy, of the devout Mussulmans. If we
+remember the seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines
+of the wise Solomon, we shall applaud the modesty of the Arabian,
+who espoused no more than seventeen or fifteen wives;
+eleven are enumerated, who occupied at Medina their separate
+apartments round the house of the apostle, and enjoyed in their
+turns the favor of his conjugal society. What is singular enough,
+they were all widows, excepting only Ayesha, the daughter of
+Abubeker. <i>She</i> was doubtless a virgin, since Mahomet consummated
+his nuptials (such is the premature ripeness of the climate)
+when she was only nine years of age.  The youth, the beauty,
+the spirit of Ayesha gave her a superior ascendant; she was
+beloved and trusted by the prophet, and after his death the
+daughter of Abubeker was long revered as the mother of the
+faithful. Her behavior had been ambiguous and indiscreet; in a
+nocturnal march she was accidentally left behind, and in the
+morning Ayesha returned to the camp with a man. The temper
+of Mahomet was inclined to jealousy; but a Divine revelation
+assured him of her innocence: he chastised her accusers, and
+published a law of domestic peace, that no woman should be
+condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her in the act of
+adultery.  In his adventures with Zeineb the wife of Zeid, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 6313]</a></span>
+with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the
+interest of his reputation. At the house of Zeid, his freedman
+and adopted son, he beheld in a loose undress the beauty of
+Zeineb, and burst forth into an ejaculation of devotion and desire.
+The servile, or grateful, freedman understood the hint, and
+yielded without hesitation to the love of his benefactor. But as
+the filial relation had excited some doubt and scandal, the angel
+Gabriel descended from heaven to ratify the deed, to annul the
+adoption, and gently to reprove the apostle for distrusting the
+indulgence of his God. One of his wives, Hafna the daughter
+of Omar, surprised him on her own bed, in the embraces of his
+Egyptian captive: she promised secrecy and forgiveness; he swore
+that he would renounce the possession of Mary. Both parties
+forgot their engagements; and Gabriel again descended with a
+chapter of the Koran, to absolve him from his oath and to
+exhort him freely to enjoy his captives and concubines, without
+listening to the clamors of his wives. In a solitary retreat of
+thirty days, he labored, alone with Mary, to fulfill the commands
+of the angel. When his love and revenge were satiated, he summoned
+to his presence his eleven wives, reproached their disobedience
+and indiscretion, and threatened them with a sentence
+of divorce, both in this world and in the next; a dreadful sentence,
+since those who had ascended the bed of the prophet
+were forever excluded from the hope of a second marriage. Perhaps
+the incontinence of Mahomet may be palliated by the tradition
+of his natural or preternatural gifts; he united the manly
+virtue of thirty of the children of Adam; and the apostle might
+rival the thirteenth labor of the Grecian Hercules. A more
+serious and decent excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to
+Cadijah. During the twenty-four years of their marriage, her
+youthful husband abstained from the right of polygamy, and the
+pride or tenderness of the venerable matron was never insulted
+by the society of a rival. After her death he placed her in the
+rank of the four perfect women, with the sister of Moses, the
+mother of Jesus, and Fatima, the best beloved of his daughters.
+"Was she not old?" said Ayesha, with the insolence of a blooming
+beauty: "has not God given you a better in her place?"
+"No, by God," said Mahomet, with an effusion of honest gratitude,
+"there never can be a better! She believed in me when
+men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was poor and
+persecuted by the world."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 6314]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_ALEXANDRIAN_LIBRARY" id="THE_ALEXANDRIAN_LIBRARY"></a>THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY</h3>
+
+<p>I should deceive the expectation of the reader if I passed in
+silence the fate of the Alexandrian library as it is described
+by the learned Abulpharagius. The spirit of Amrou was
+more curious and liberal than that of his brethren, and in his
+leisure hours the Arabian chief was pleased with the conversation
+of John, the last disciple of Ammonius, and who derived the
+surname of <i>Philoponus</i> from his laborious studies of grammar and
+philosophy. Emboldened by this familiar intercourse, Philoponus
+presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in <i>his</i> opinion, contemptible
+in that of the Barbarians&mdash;the royal library, which alone
+among the spoils of Alexandria had not been appropriated by
+the visit and the seal of the conqueror. Amrou was inclined to
+gratify the wish of the grammarian, but his rigid integrity refused
+to alienate the minutest object without the consent of the
+caliph; and the well-known answer of Omar was inspired by the
+ignorance of a fanatic: "If these writings of the Greeks agree
+with the book of God, they are useless, and need not be preserved;
+if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be
+destroyed." The sentence was executed with blind obedience,
+the volumes of paper or parchment were distributed to the four
+thousand baths of the city; and such was their incredible multitude,
+that six months were barely sufficient for the consumption
+of this precious fuel. Since the Dynasties of Abulpharagius have
+been given to the world in a Latin version, the tale has been
+repeatedly transcribed; and every scholar, with pious indignation,
+has deplored the irreparable shipwreck of the learning, the arts,
+and the genius, of antiquity. For my own part, I am strongly
+tempted to deny both the fact and the consequences. The fact
+is indeed marvelous. "Read and wonder!" says the historian
+himself; and the solitary report of a stranger who wrote at the
+end of six hundred years on the confines of Media is overbalanced
+by the silence of two annalists of a more early date, both
+Christians, both natives of Egypt, and the most ancient of whom,
+the patriarch Eutychius, has amply described the conquest of
+Alexandria. The rigid sentence of Omar is repugnant to the
+sound and orthodox precept of the Mahometan casuists: they
+expressly declare that the religious books of the Jews and Christians
+which are acquired by the right of war should never be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 6315]</a></span>
+committed to the flames; and that the works of profane science,
+historians or poets, physicians or philosophers, may be lawfully
+applied to the use of the faithful. A more destructive zeal may
+perhaps be attributed to the first successors of Mahomet; yet in
+this instance, the conflagration would have speedily expired in
+the deficiency of materials. I shall not recapitulate the disasters
+of the Alexandrian library, the involuntary flame that was kindled
+by C&aelig;sar in his own defense, or the mischievous bigotry of
+the Christians, who studied to destroy the monuments of idolatry.
+But if we gradually descend from the age of the Antonines to
+that of Theodosius, we shall learn from a chain of contemporary
+witnesses that the royal palace and the temple of Serapis no
+longer contained the four, or the seven, hundred thousand volumes
+which had been assembled by the curiosity and magnificence
+of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and seat of the
+patriarchs might be enriched with a repository of books; but if
+the ponderous mass of Arian and Monophysite controversy were
+indeed consumed in the public baths, a philosopher may allow,
+with a smile, that it was ultimately devoted to the benefit of mankind.
+I sincerely regret the more valuable libraries which have
+been involved in the ruin of the Roman Empire; but when I seriously
+compute the lapse of ages, the waste of ignorance, and the
+calamities of war, our treasures, rather than our losses, are the
+objects of my surprise. Many curious and interesting facts are
+buried in oblivion; the three great historians of Rome have been
+transmitted to our hands in a mutilated state, and we are deprived
+of many pleasing compositions of the lyric, iambic, and
+dramatic poetry of the Greeks. Yet we should gratefully remember
+that the mischances of time and accident have spared the
+classic works to which the suffrage of antiquity had adjudged
+the first place of genius and glory; the teachers of ancient knowledge
+who are still extant had perused and compared the writings
+of their predecessors; nor can it fairly be presumed that
+any important truth, any useful discovery in art or nature, has
+been snatched away from the curiosity of modern ages.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 6316]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 90%;">
+<a name="RUINED_ROME" id="RUINED_ROME"></a>
+<span class="caption"><i>RUINED ROME.</i></span>
+<img src="images/ruinedrome.jpg" width="100%" alt="RUINED ROME." title="RUINED ROME." />
+<p class="center"><b>From a Photograph.<br />
+<span class="smcap">Temple of Romulus</span> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span class="smcap">Basilica of Constantine</span> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span class="smcap">Colosseum</span> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span class="smcap">Arch of Titus</span></b></p>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_FINAL_RUIN_OF_ROME" id="THE_FINAL_RUIN_OF_ROME"></a>THE FINAL RUIN OF ROME</h3>
+
+<p>In the last days of Pope Eugenius the Fourth, two of his servants,
+the learned Poggius and a friend, ascended the Capitoline
+Hill, reposed themselves among the ruins of columns and
+temples, and viewed from that commanding spot the wide and
+various prospect of desolation.  The place and the object gave
+ample scope for moralizing on the vicissitudes of fortune, which
+spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which buries
+empires and cities in a common grave; and it was agreed that in
+proportion to her former greatness the fall of Rome was the more
+awful and deplorable. "Her primeval state, such as she might appear
+in a remote age, when Evander entertained the stranger
+of Troy, has been delineated by the fancy of Virgil. This Tarpeian
+Rock was then a savage and solitary thicket; in the time of
+the poet it was crowned with the golden roofs of a temple; the
+temple is overthrown, the gold has been pillaged, the wheel of
+fortune has accomplished her revolution, and the sacred ground
+is again disfigured with thorns and brambles.  The hill of the
+Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman
+Empire, the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings; illustrated
+by the footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils
+and tributes of so many nations. This spectacle of the world,
+how is it fallen! how changed! how defaced! The path of victory
+is obliterated by vines, and the benches of the senators are
+concealed by a dunghill. Cast your eyes on the Palatine Hill, and
+seek among the shapeless and enormous fragments the marble
+theatre, the obelisks, the colossal statues, the porticos of Nero's
+palace; survey the other hills of the city,&mdash;the vacant space is interrupted
+only by ruins and gardens. The Forum of the Roman
+people, where they assembled to enact their laws and elect their
+magistrates, is now inclosed for the cultivation of pot-herbs, or
+thrown open for the reception of swine and buffaloes. The public
+and private edifices that were founded for eternity lie prostrate,
+naked, and broken, like the limbs of a mighty giant; and
+the ruin is the more visible, from the stupendous relics that have
+survived the injuries of time and fortune."</p>
+
+
+<p>These relics are minutely described by Poggius, one of the
+first who raised his eyes from the monuments of legendary to
+those of classic superstition. 1. Besides a bridge, an arch, a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 6317]</a></span>
+sepulchre, and the pyramid of Cestius, he could discern, of the
+age of the republic, a double row of vaults in the salt office
+of the Capitol, which were inscribed with the name and munificence
+of Catulus. 2. Eleven temples were visible in some
+degree, from the perfect form of the Pantheon to the three arches
+and a marble column of the temple of Peace which Vespasian
+erected after the civil wars and the Jewish triumph. 3. Of the
+number which he rashly defines, of seven <i>therm&aelig;</i>, or public
+baths, none were sufficiently entire to represent the use and distribution
+of the several parts; but those of Diocletian and Antoninus
+Caracalla still retained the titles of the founders and
+astonished the curious spectator who in observing their solidity
+and extent, the variety of marbles, the size and multitude of the
+columns, compared the labor and expense with the use and importance.
+Of the baths of Constantine, of Alexander, of Domitian,
+or rather of Titus, some vestige might yet be found. 4. The
+triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine were entire,
+both the structure and the inscriptions; a falling fragment was
+honored with the name of Trajan; and two arches then extant
+in the Flaminian Way have been ascribed to the baser memory
+of Faustina and Gallienus. 5. After the wonder of the Coliseum,
+Poggius might have overlooked a small amphitheatre of brick,
+most probably for the use of the pr&aelig;torian camp; the theatres of
+Marcellus and Pompey were occupied in a great measure by public
+and private buildings; and in the Circus, Agonalis and Maximus,
+little more than the situation and the form could be
+investigated. 6. The columns of Trajan and Antonine were still
+erect; but the Egyptian obelisks were broken or buried. A people
+of gods and heroes, the workmanship of art, was reduced to
+one equestrian figure of gilt brass and to five marble statues, of
+which the most conspicuous were the two horses of Phidias and
+Praxiteles. 7. The two mausoleums or sepulchres of Augustus
+and Hadrian could not totally be lost; but the former was only
+visible as a mound of earth, and the latter, the castle of St.
+Angelo, had acquired the name and appearance of a modern fortress.
+With the addition of some separate and nameless columns,
+such were the remains of the ancient city; for the marks of a
+more recent structure might be detected in the walls, which
+formed a circumference of ten miles, included three hundred and
+seventy-nine turrets, and opened into the country by thirteen
+gates.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 6318]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This melancholy picture was drawn above nine hundred years
+after the fall of the Western Empire, and even of the Gothic
+kingdom of Italy. A long period of distress and anarchy, in
+which empire, and arts, and riches had migrated from the banks
+of the Tiber, was incapable of restoring or adorning the city;
+and as all that is human must retrograde if it do not advance,
+every successive age must have hastened the ruin of the works
+of antiquity. To measure the progress of decay, and to ascertain,
+at each era, the state of each edifice, would be an endless
+and a useless labor; and I shall content myself with two observations
+which will introduce a short inquiry into the general
+causes and effects. 1. Two hundred years before the eloquent
+complaint of Poggius, an anonymous writer composed a description
+of Rome. His ignorance may repeat the same objects under
+strange and fabulous names. Yet this barbarous topographer had
+eyes and ears; he could observe the visible remains; he could
+listen to the tradition of the people; and he distinctly enumerates
+seven theatres, eleven baths, twelve arches, and eighteen palaces,
+of which many had disappeared before the time of Poggius. It
+is apparent that many stately monuments of antiquity survived
+till a late period, and that the principles of destruction acted
+with vigorous and increasing energy in the thirteenth and fourteenth
+centuries. 2. The same reflection must be applied to the
+three last ages; and we should vainly seek the Septizonium of
+Severus, which is celebrated by Petrarch and the antiquarians
+of the sixteenth century. While the Roman edifices were still
+entire, the first blows, however weighty and impetuous, were resisted
+by the solidity of the mass and the harmony of the parts;
+but the slightest touch would precipitate the fragments of arches
+and columns that already nodded to their fall.</p>
+
+<p>After a diligent inquiry, I can discern four principal causes
+of the ruin of Rome, which continued to operate in a period of
+more than a thousand years. I. The injuries of time and nature.
+II. The hostile attacks of the Barbarians and Christians. III.
+The use and abuse of the materials. And IV. The domestic
+quarrels of the Romans.</p>
+
+<p>I. The art of man is able to construct monuments far more
+permanent than the narrow span of his own existence; yet these
+monuments, like himself, are perishable and frail; and in the
+boundless annals of time his life and his labors must equally be
+measured as a fleeting moment. Of a simple and solid edifice it
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 6319]</a></span>
+is not easy, however, to circumscribe the duration. As the wonders
+of ancient days, the Pyramids attracted the curiosity of the
+ancients: a hundred generations, the leaves of autumn, have
+dropped into the grave; and after the fall of the Pharaohs and
+Ptolemies, the C&aelig;sars and caliphs, the same Pyramids stand erect
+and unshaken above the floods of the Nile. A complex figure of
+various and minute parts is more accessible to injury and decay;
+and the silent lapse of time is often accelerated by hurricanes
+and earthquakes, by fires and inundations. The air and earth
+have doubtless been shaken, and the lofty turrets of Rome have
+tottered from their foundations, but the seven hills do not appear
+to be placed on the great cavities of the globe; nor has the city
+in any age been exposed to the convulsions of nature which in
+the climate of Antioch, Lisbon, or Lima, have crumbled in a few
+moments the works of ages in the dust. Fire is the most powerful
+agent of life and death: the rapid mischief may be kindled
+and propagated by the industry or negligence of mankind; and
+every period of the Roman annals is marked by the repetition of
+similar calamities. A memorable conflagration, the guilt or misfortune
+of Nero's reign, continued, though with unequal fury,
+either six or nine days. Innumerable buildings, crowded in close
+and crooked streets, supplied perpetual fuel for the flames; and
+when they ceased, four only of the fourteen regions were left
+entire; three were totally destroyed, and seven were deformed by
+the relics of smoking and lacerated edifices. In the full meridian
+of empire, the metropolis arose with fresh beauty from her ashes;
+yet the memory of the old deplored the irreparable losses, the
+arts of Greece, the trophies of victory, the monuments of primitive
+or fabulous antiquity. In the days of distress and anarchy
+every wound is mortal, every fall irretrievable; nor can the damage
+be restored either by the public care of government or the
+activity of private interest. Yet two causes may be alleged, which
+render the calamity of fire more destructive to a flourishing than
+a decayed city. 1. The more combustible materials of brick,
+timber, and metals are first melted and consumed, but the
+flames may play without injury or effect on the naked walls and
+massy arches that have been despoiled of their ornaments. 2. It
+is among the common and plebeian habitations that a mischievous
+spark is most easily blown to a conflagration; but as soon as
+they are devoured, the greater edifices which have resisted or
+escaped are left as so many islands in a state of solitude and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 6320]</a></span>
+safety. From her situation, Rome is exposed to the danger of
+frequent inundations.  Without excepting the Tiber, the rivers
+that descend from either side of the Apennine have a short and
+irregular course; a shallow stream in the summer heats; an impetuous
+torrent when it is swelled in the spring or winter by
+the fall of rain and the melting of the snows. When the current
+is repelled from the sea by adverse winds, when the ordinary bed
+is inadequate to the weight of waters, they rise above the banks
+and overspread without limits or control the plains and cities of
+the adjacent country. Soon after the triumph of the first Punic
+War, the Tiber was increased by unusual rains; and the inundation,
+surpassing all former measure of time and place, destroyed
+all the buildings that were situate below the hills of Rome.
+According to the variety of ground, the same mischief was
+produced by different means; and the edifices were either swept
+away by the sudden impulse, or dissolved and undermined by
+the long continuance of the flood. Under the reign of Augustus
+the same calamity was renewed: the lawless river overturned the
+palaces and temples on its banks; and after the labors of the
+Emperor in cleansing and widening the bed that was incumbered
+with ruins, the vigilance of his successors was exercised by similar
+dangers and designs. The project of diverting into new
+channels the Tiber itself, or some of the dependent streams, was
+long opposed by superstition and local interests; nor did the use
+compensate the toil and costs of the tardy and imperfect execution.
+The servitude of rivers is the noblest and most important
+victory which man has obtained over the licentiousness of nature;
+and if such were the ravages of the Tiber under a firm and active
+government, what could oppose, or who can enumerate, the
+injuries of the city after the fall of the Western Empire? A
+remedy was at length produced by the evil itself: the accumulation
+of rubbish and the earth that has been washed down from
+the hills is supposed to have elevated the plain of Rome fourteen
+or fifteen feet perhaps above the ancient level: and the
+modern city is less accessible to the attacks of the river.</p>
+
+<p>II. The crowd of writers of every nation who impute the
+destruction of the Roman monuments to the Goths and the
+Christians, have neglected to inquire how far they were animated
+by a hostile principle, and how far they possessed the means and
+the leisure to satiate their enmity. In the preceding volumes
+of this history I have described the triumph of barbarism and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 6321]</a></span>
+religion; and I can only resume in a few words their real or
+imaginary connection with the ruin of ancient Rome. Our fancy
+may create or adopt a pleasing romance: that the Goths and
+Vandals sallied from Scandinavia, ardent to avenge the flight of
+Odin, to break the chains and to chastise the oppressors of mankind;
+that they wished to burn the records of classic literature,
+and to found their national architecture on the broken members
+of the Tuscan and Corinthian orders. But in simple truth, the
+Northern conquerors were neither sufficiently savage nor sufficiently
+refined to entertain such aspiring ideas of destruction and
+revenge. The shepherds of Scythia and Germany had been educated
+in the armies of the Empire, whose discipline they acquired
+and whose weakness they invaded; with the familiar use of the
+Latin tongue, they had learned to reverence the name and titles
+of Rome; and though incapable of emulating, they were more
+inclined to admire than to abolish the arts and studies of a
+brighter period. In the transient possession of a rich and unresisting
+capital, the soldiers of Alaric and Genseric were stimulated
+by the passions of a victorious army; amidst the wanton
+indulgence of lust or cruelty, portable wealth was the object of
+their search; nor could they derive either pride or pleasure from
+the unprofitable reflection that they had battered to the ground
+the works of the consuls and C&aelig;sars. Their moments were
+indeed precious: the Goths evacuated Rome on the sixth, the
+Vandals on the fifteenth day, and though it be far more difficult
+to build than to destroy, their hasty assault would have made
+a slight impression on the solid piles of antiquity. We may
+remember that both Alaric and Genseric affected to spare the
+buildings of the city; that they subsisted in strength and beauty
+under the auspicious government of Theodoric; and that the momentary
+resentment of Totila was disarmed by his own temper
+and the advice of his friends and enemies. From these innocent
+Barbarians the reproach may be transferred to the Catholics of
+Rome. The statues, altars, and houses of the d&aelig;mons were an
+abomination in their eyes; and in the absolute command of the
+city, they might labor with zeal and perseverance to erase the
+idolatry of their ancestors. The demolition of the temples in
+the East affords to <i>them</i> an example of conduct, and to <i>us</i> an
+argument of belief; and it is probable that a portion of guilt or
+merit may be imputed with justice to the Roman proselytes. Yet
+their abhorrence was confined to the monuments of heathen
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 6322]</a></span>
+superstition; and the civil structures that were dedicated to
+the business or pleasure of society might be preserved without
+injury or scandal.  The change of religion was accomplished
+not by a popular tumult, but by the decrees of the emperors, of
+the Senate, and of time. Of the Christian hierarchy, the bishops
+of Rome were commonly the most prudent and least fanatic;
+nor can any positive charge be opposed to the meritorious act
+of saving and converting the majestic structure of the Pantheon.</p>
+
+<p>III. The value of any object that supplies the wants or pleasures
+of mankind is compounded of its substance and its form, of
+the materials and the manufacture.  Its price must depend on
+the number of persons by whom it may be acquired and used;
+on the extent of the market; and consequently on the ease or
+difficulty of remote exportation according to the nature of the
+commodity, its local situation, and the temporary circumstances
+of the world. The Barbarian conquerors of Rome usurped in a
+moment the toil and treasure of successive ages; but except the
+luxuries of immediate consumption, they must view without
+desire all that could not be removed from the city in the Gothic
+wagons or the fleet of the Vandals. Gold and silver were the
+first objects of their avarice; as in every country, and in the
+smallest compass, they represent the most ample command of
+the industry and possessions of mankind. A vase or a statue of
+those precious metals might tempt the vanity of some Barbarian
+chief; but the grosser multitude, regardless of the form, was
+tenacious only of the substance; and the melted ingots might be
+readily divided and stamped into the current coin of the empire.
+The less active or less fortunate robbers were reduced to the
+baser plunder of brass, lead, iron, and copper: whatever had
+escaped the Goths and Vandals was pillaged by the Greek tyrants;
+and the Emperor Constans in his rapacious visit stripped the
+bronze tiles from the roof of the Pantheon.  The edifices of
+Rome might be considered as a vast and various mine: the first
+labor of extracting the materials was already performed; the
+metals were purified and cast; the marbles were hewn and polished;
+and after foreign and domestic rapine had been satiated,
+the remains of the city, could a purchaser have been found, were
+still venal. The monuments of antiquity had been left naked of
+their precious ornaments; but the Romans would demolish with
+their own hands the arches and walls, if the hope of profit could
+surpass the cost of the labor and exportation. If Charlemagne
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 6323]</a></span>
+had fixed in Italy the seat of the Western Empire, his genius
+would have aspired to restore, rather than to violate, the works
+of the C&aelig;sars: but policy confined the French monarch to the
+forests of Germany; his taste could be gratified only by destruction;
+and the new palace of Aix-la-Chapelle was decorated
+with the marbles of Ravenna and Rome. Five hundred years
+after Charlemagne, a king of Sicily, Robert,&mdash;the wisest and
+most liberal sovereign of the age,&mdash;was supplied with the same
+materials by the easy navigation of the Tiber and the sea; and
+Petrarch sighs an indignant complaint that the ancient capital of
+the world should adorn from her own bowels the slothful luxury
+of Naples. But these examples of plunder or purchase were rare
+in the darker ages; and the Romans, alone and unenvied, might
+have applied to their private or public use the remaining structures
+of antiquity, if in their present form and situation they had
+not been useless in a great measure to the city and its inhabitants.
+The walls still described the old circumference, but the
+city had descended from the seven hills into the Campus Martius;
+and some of the noblest monuments which had braved the injuries
+of time were left in a desert, far remote from the habitations
+of mankind. The palaces of the senators were no longer
+adapted to the manners or fortunes of their indigent successors:
+the use of baths and porticos was forgotten; in the sixth century
+the games of the theatre, amphitheatre, and circus had
+been interrupted; some temples were devoted to the prevailing
+worship, but the Christian churches preferred the holy figure of
+the cross; and fashion, or reason, had distributed after a peculiar
+model the cells and offices of the cloister. Under the ecclesiastical
+reign, the number of these pious foundations was enormously
+multiplied; and the city was crowded with forty monasteries of
+men, twenty of women, and sixty chapters and colleges of canons
+and priests, who aggravated instead of relieving the depopulation
+of the tenth century. But if the forms of ancient architecture
+were disregarded by a people insensible of their use
+and beauty, the plentiful materials were applied to every call of
+necessity or superstition; till the fairest columns of the Ionic and
+Corinthian orders, the richest marbles of Paros and Numidia,
+were degraded, perhaps to the support of a convent or a stable.
+The daily havoc which is perpetrated by the Turks in the cities
+of Greece and Asia may afford a melancholy example; and in the
+gradual destruction of the monuments of Rome, Sixtus the Fifth
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 6324]</a></span>
+may alone be excused for employing the stones of the Septizonium
+in the glorious edifice of St. Peter's. A fragment, a ruin, howsoever
+mangled or profaned, may be viewed with pleasure and
+regret; but the greater part of the marble was deprived of substance,
+as well as of place and proportion: it was burnt to lime
+for the purpose of cement. Since the arrival of Poggius, the
+temple of Concord and many capital structures had vanished
+from his eyes; and an epigram of the same age expresses a just
+and pious fear that the continuance of this practice would finally
+annihilate all the monuments of antiquity. The smallness of their
+numbers was the sole check on the demands and depredations of
+the Romans. The imagination of Petrarch might create the
+presence of a mighty people; and I hesitate to believe that
+even in the fourteenth century they could be reduced to a contemptible
+list of thirty-three thousand inhabitants. From that
+period to the reign of Leo the Tenth, if they multiplied to the
+amount of eighty-five thousand, the increase of citizens was in
+some degree pernicious to the ancient city.</p>
+
+<p>IV. I have reserved for the last, the most potent and forcible
+cause of destruction, the domestic hostilities of the Romans themselves.
+Under the dominion of the Greek and French emperors,
+the peace of the city was disturbed by accidental though frequent
+seditions: it is from the decline of the latter, from the
+beginning of the tenth century, that we may date the licentiousness
+of private war, which violated with impunity the laws of
+the Code and the gospel, without respecting the majesty of the
+absent sovereign or the presence and person of the vicar of
+Christ. In a dark period of five hundred years, Rome was perpetually
+afflicted by the sanguinary quarrels of the nobles and the
+people, the Guelphs and Ghibelines, the Colonna and Ursini; and
+if much has escaped the knowledge, and much is unworthy of
+the notice, of history, I have exposed in the two preceding chapters
+the causes and effects of the public disorders. At such a
+time, when every quarrel was decided by the sword and none
+could trust their lives or properties to the impotence of law, the
+powerful citizens were armed for safety, or offense, against the
+domestic enemies whom they feared or hated. Except Venice
+alone, the same dangers and designs were common to all the
+free republics of Italy; and the nobles usurped the prerogative
+of fortifying their houses and erecting strong towers that were
+capable of resisting a sudden attack. The cities were filled with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 6325]</a></span>
+these hostile edifices; and the example of Lucca, which contained
+three hundred towers, her law which confined their height to
+the measure of fourscore feet, may be extended with suitable latitude
+to the more opulent and populous States. The first step of
+the senator Brancaleone in the establishment of peace and justice,
+was to demolish (as we have already seen) one hundred and
+forty of the towers of Rome; and in the last days of anarchy
+and discord, as late as the reign of Martin the Fifth, forty-four
+still stood in one of the thirteen or fourteen regions of the city.
+To this mischievous purpose the remains of antiquity were most
+readily adapted: the temples and arches afforded a broad and
+solid basis for the new structures of brick and stone; and we can
+name the modern turrets that were raised on the triumphal monuments
+of Julius C&aelig;sar, Titus, and the Antonines. With some slight
+alterations, a theatre, an amphitheatre, a mausoleum, was transformed
+into a strong and spacious citadel. I need not repeat
+that the mole of Adrian has assumed the title and form of the
+castle of St. Angelo; the Septizonium of Severus was capable of
+standing against a royal army; the sepulchre of Metella has sunk
+under its outworks; the theatres of Pompey and Marcellus were
+occupied by the Savelli and Ursini families; and the rough fortress
+has been gradually softened to the splendor and elegance of
+an Italian palace. Even the churches were encompassed with
+arms and bulwarks, and the military engines on the roof of St.
+Peter's were the terror of the Vatican and the scandal of the
+Christian world. Whatever is fortified will be attacked; and
+whatever is attacked may be destroyed. Could the Romans
+have wrested from the popes the castle of St. Angelo, they had
+resolved by a public decree to annihilate that monument of servitude.
+Every building of defense was exposed to a siege; and in
+every siege the arts and engines of destruction were laboriously
+employed. After the death of Nicholas the Fourth, Rome, without
+a sovereign or a senate, was abandoned six months to the
+fury of civil war. "The houses," says a cardinal and poet of the
+times, "were crushed by the weight and velocity of enormous
+stones; the walls were perforated by the strokes of the battering-ram;
+the towers were involved in fire and smoke; and the
+assailants were stimulated by rapine and revenge." The work
+was consummated by the tyranny of the laws; and the factions
+of Italy alternately exercised a blind and thoughtless vengeance
+on their adversaries, whose houses and castles they razed to the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 6326]</a></span>
+ground. In comparing the <i>days</i> of foreign, with the <i>ages</i> of
+domestic hostility, we must pronounce that the latter have been
+far more ruinous to the city; and our opinion is confirmed by
+the evidence of Petrarch. "Behold," says the laureate, "the
+relics of Rome, the image of her pristine greatness! neither time
+nor the Barbarian can boast the merit of this stupendous destruction:
+it was perpetrated by her own citizens, by the most illustrious
+of her sons; and your ancestors [he writes to a noble
+Annibaldi] have done with battering-ram what the Punic hero
+could not accomplish with the sword." The influence of the two
+last principles of decay must in some degree be multiplied by
+each other, since the houses and towers which were subverted
+by civil war required a new and perpetual supply from the monuments
+of antiquity.</p>
+
+<p>These general observations may be separately applied to the
+amphitheatre of Titus, which has obtained the name of the Coliseum,
+either from its magnitude or from Nero's colossal statue;
+an edifice, had it been left to time and nature, which might perhaps
+have claimed an eternal duration. The curious antiquaries
+who have computed the numbers and seats are disposed to
+believe that above the upper row of stone steps the amphitheatre
+was encircled and elevated with several stages of wooden galleries,
+which were repeatedly consumed by fire, and restored by the
+emperors. Whatever was precious, or portable, or profane, the
+statues of gods and heroes, and the costly ornaments of sculpture
+which were cast in brass or overspread with leaves of silver
+and gold, became the first prey of conquest or fanaticism, of the
+avarice of the Barbarians or the Christians. In the massy stones
+of the Coliseum, many holes are discerned; and the two most
+probable conjectures represent the various accidents of its decay.
+These stones were connected by solid links of brass or iron, nor
+had the eye of rapine overlooked the value of the baser metals;
+the vacant space was converted into a fair or market; the artisans
+of the Coliseum are mentioned in an ancient survey; and
+the chasms were perforated or enlarged to receive the poles that
+supported the shops or tents of the mechanic trades. Reduced to
+its naked majesty, the Flavian amphitheatre was contemplated
+with awe and admiration by the pilgrims of the North; and their
+rude enthusiasm broke forth in a sublime proverbial expression,
+which is recorded in the eighth century, in the fragments of the
+venerable Bede: "As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 6327]</a></span>
+stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; when Rome
+falls, the world will fall." In the modern system of war a situation
+commanded by the three hills would not be chosen for a
+fortress: but the strength of the walls and arches could resist
+the engines of assault; a numerous garrison might be lodged in
+the inclosure; and while one faction occupied the Vatican and
+the Capitol, the other was intrenched in the Lateran and the
+Coliseum.</p>
+
+<p>The abolition at Rome of the ancient games must be understood
+with some latitude; and the carnival sports of the Testacean
+Mount and the Circus Agonalis were regulated by the law
+or custom of the city. The senator presided with dignity and
+pomp to adjudge and distribute the prizes, the gold ring, or the
+<i>pallium</i>, as it was styled, of cloth or silk. A tribute on the
+Jews supplied the annual expense; and the races on foot, on
+horseback, or in chariots, were ennobled by a tilt and tournament
+of seventy-two of the Roman youth. In the year 1332 a bull-feast,
+after the fashion of the Moors and Spaniards, was celebrated
+in the Coliseum itself; and the living manners are painted in a
+diary of the times. A convenient order of benches was restored,
+and a general proclamation as far as Rimini and Ravenna invited
+the nobles to exercise their skill and courage in this perilous adventure.
+The Roman ladies were marshaled in three squadrons
+and seated in three balconies, which on this day, the third of September,
+were lined with scarlet cloth. The fair Jacova di Rovere
+led the matrons from beyond the Tiber, a pure and native race
+who still represent the features and character of antiquity. The
+remainder of the city was divided as usual between the Colonna
+and Ursini: the two factions were proud of the number and
+beauty of their female bands: the charms of Savella Ursini are
+mentioned with praise, and the Colonna regretted the absence of
+the youngest of their house, who had sprained her ankle in the
+garden of Nero's tower. The lots of the champions were drawn
+by an old and respectable citizen; and they descended into the
+arena, or pit, to encounter the wild bulls, on foot as it should
+seem, with a single spear. Amidst the crowd, our annalist has
+selected the names, colors, and devices of twenty of the most
+conspicuous knights. Several of the names are the most illustrious
+of Rome and the ecclesiastical State: Malatesta, Polenta,
+Della Valle, Cafarello, Savelli, Capoccio, Conti, Annibaldi, Altieri,
+Corsi: the colors were adapted to their taste and situation: the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 6328]</a></span>
+devices are expressive of hope or despair, and breathe the spirit
+of gallantry and arms. "I am alone, like the youngest of the
+Horatii," the confidence of an intrepid stranger; "I live disconsolate,"
+a weeping widower; "I burn under the ashes," a discreet
+lover; "I adore Lavinia, or Lucretia," the ambiguous
+declaration of a modern passion; "My faith is as pure," the
+motto of a white livery; "Who is stronger than myself?" of a
+lion's hide; "If I am drowned in blood, what a pleasant death!"
+the wish of ferocious courage. The pride or prudence of the
+Ursini restrained them from the field, which was occupied by
+three of their hereditary rivals, whose inscriptions denoted the
+lofty greatness of the Colonna name: "Though sad, I am strong;"
+"Strong as I am great;" "If I fall," addressing himself to the
+spectators, "you fall with me"&mdash;intimating (says the contemporary
+writer) that while the other families were the subjects of
+the Vatican, they alone were the supporters of the Capitol. The
+combats of the amphitheatre were dangerous and bloody. Every
+champion successively encountered a wild bull; and the victory
+may be ascribed to the quadrupeds, since no more than eleven
+were left on the field, with the loss of nine wounded and eighteen
+killed on the side of their adversaries. Some of the noblest families
+might mourn; but the pomp of the funerals in the churches
+of St. John Lateran and Sta. Maria Maggiore afforded a second
+holiday to the people. Doubtless it was not in such conflicts that
+the blood of the Romans should have been shed: yet in blaming
+their rashness we are compelled to applaud their gallantry;
+and the noble volunteers who display their magnificence and risk
+their lives under the balconies of the fair, excite a more generous
+sympathy than the thousands of captives and malefactors
+who were reluctantly dragged to the scene of slaughter.</p>
+
+<p>This use of the amphitheatre was a rare, perhaps a singular,
+festival: the demand for the materials was a daily and continual
+want which the citizens could gratify without restraint or remorse.
+In the fourteenth century a scandalous act of concord secured to
+both factions the privilege of extracting stones from the free and
+common quarry of the Coliseum; and Poggius laments that the
+greater part of these stones had been burnt to lime by the folly
+of the Romans. To check this abuse, and to prevent the nocturnal
+crimes that might be perpetrated in the vast and gloomy
+recess, Eugenius the Fourth surrounded it with a wall; and by
+a charter long extant, granted both the ground and edifice to the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 6329]</a></span>
+monks of an adjacent convent. After his death the wall was
+overthrown in a tumult of the people; and had they themselves
+respected the noblest monument of their fathers, they might have
+justified the resolve that it should never be degraded to private
+property. The inside was damaged; but in the middle of the
+sixteenth century, an era of taste and learning, the exterior circumference
+of one thousand six hundred and twelve feet was still
+entire and inviolate; a triple elevation of fourscore arches which
+rose to the height of one hundred and eight feet. Of the present
+ruin, the nephews of Paul the Third are the guilty agents;
+and every traveler who views the Farnese palace may curse the
+sacrilege and luxury of these upstart princes. A similar reproach
+is applied to the Barberini; and the repetition of injury might
+be dreaded from every reign, till the Coliseum was placed under
+the safeguard of religion by the most liberal of the pontiffs, Benedict
+the Fourteenth, who consecrated a spot which persecution
+and fable had stained with the blood of so many Christian martyrs.</p>
+
+<p>When Petrarch first gratified his eyes with a view of those
+monuments, whose scattered fragments so far surpass the most
+eloquent descriptions, he was astonished at the supine indifference
+of the Romans themselves; he was humbled rather than elated
+by the discovery that, except his friend Rienzi and one of the
+Colonna, a stranger of the Rh&ocirc;ne was more conversant with these
+antiquities than the nobles and natives of the metropolis. The
+ignorance and credulity of the Romans are elaborately displayed
+in the old survey of the city, which was composed about the
+beginning of the thirteenth century; and without dwelling on the
+manifold errors of name and place, the legend of the Capitol may
+provoke a smile of contempt and indignation. "The Capitol,"
+says the anonymous writer, "is so named as being the head of
+the world, where the consuls and senators formerly resided for
+the government of the city and the globe. The strong and lofty
+walls were covered with glass and gold, and crowned with a roof
+of the richest and most curious carving. Below the citadel stood
+a palace, of gold for the greatest part, decorated with precious
+stones, and whose value might be esteemed at one-third of the
+world itself. The statues of all the provinces were arranged in
+order, each with a small bell suspended from its neck; and such
+was the contrivance of art magic, that if the province rebelled
+against Rome the statue turned round to that quarter of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 6330]</a></span>
+heavens, the bell rang, the prophet of the Capitol reported the
+prodigy, and the Senate was admonished of the impending danger."
+A second example, of less importance though of equal
+absurdity, may be drawn from the two marble horses, led by two
+naked youths, which have since been transported from the baths
+of Constantine to the Quirinal Hill. The groundless application
+of the names of Phidias and Praxiteles may perhaps be excused:
+but these Grecian sculptors should not have been removed above
+four hundred years from the age of Pericles to that of Tiberius;
+they should not have been transformed into two philosophers or
+magicians, whose nakedness was the symbol of truth or knowledge,
+who revealed to the Emperor his most secret actions, and
+after refusing all pecuniary recompense, solicited the honor of
+leaving this eternal monument of themselves. Thus, awake to
+the power of magic, the Romans were insensible to the beauties
+of art: no more than five statues were visible to the eyes of
+Poggius; and of the multitudes which chance or design had
+buried under the ruins, the resurrection was fortunately delayed
+till a safer and more enlightened age. The Nile, which now
+adorns the Vatican, had been explored by some laborers in digging
+a vineyard near the temple, or convent, of the Minerva: but
+the impatient proprietor, who was tormented by some visits of
+curiosity, restored the unprofitable marble to its former grave.
+The discovery of the statue of Pompey, ten feet in length, was
+the occasion of a lawsuit. It had been found under a partition
+wall: the equitable judge had pronounced that the head should
+be separated from the body to satisfy the claims of the contiguous
+owners; and the sentence would have been executed if
+the intercession of a cardinal and the liberality of a pope had not
+rescued the Roman hero from the hands of his barbarous countrymen.</p>
+
+<p>But the clouds of barbarism were gradually dispelled, and the
+peaceful authority of Martin the Fifth and his successors restored
+the ornaments of the city as well as the order of the ecclesiastical
+State. The improvements of Rome since the fifteenth century
+have not been the spontaneous produce of freedom and
+industry. The first and most natural root of a great city is the
+labor and populousness of the adjacent country, which supplies
+the materials of subsistence, of manufactures, and of foreign trade.
+But the greater part of the Campagna of Rome is reduced to a
+dreary and desolate wilderness; the overgrown estates of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 6331]</a></span>
+princes and the clergy are cultivated by the lazy hands of indigent
+and hopeless vassals; and the scanty harvests are confined
+or exported for the benefit of a monopoly. A second and more
+artificial cause of the growth of a metropolis is the residence of
+a monarch, the expense of a luxurious court, and the tributes of
+dependent provinces. Those provinces and tributes had been lost
+in the fall of the Empire: and if some streams of the silver of
+Peru and the gold of Brazil have been attracted by the Vatican,
+the revenues of the cardinals, the fees of office, the oblations of
+pilgrims and clients, and the remnant of ecclesiastical taxes, afford
+a poor and precarious supply, which maintains however the idleness
+of the court and city. The population of Rome, far below
+the measure of the great capitals of Europe, does not exceed one
+hundred and seventy thousand inhabitants; and within the spacious
+inclosure of the walls the largest portion of the seven hills
+is overspread with vineyards and ruins. The beauty and splendor
+of the modern city may be ascribed to the abuses of the government,
+to the influence of superstition. Each reign (the exceptions
+are rare) has been marked by the rapid elevation of a new
+family, enriched by the childless pontiff at the expense of the
+Church and country. The palaces of these fortunate nephews are
+the most costly monuments of elegance and servitude: the perfect
+arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture have been prostituted
+in their service; and their galleries and gardens are
+decorated with the most precious works of antiquity which taste
+or vanity has prompted them to collect. The ecclesiastical revenues
+were more decently employed by the popes themselves in
+the pomp of the Catholic worship; but it is superfluous to enumerate
+their pious foundations of altars, chapels, and churches,
+since these lesser stars are eclipsed by the sun of the Vatican, by
+the dome of St. Peter, the most glorious structure that ever has
+been applied to the use of religion. The fame of Julius the
+Second, Leo the Tenth, and Sixtus the Fifth is accompanied by
+the superior merit of Bramante and Fontana, of Raphael and
+Michael Angelo; and the same munificence which had been displayed
+in palaces and temples was directed with equal zeal to
+revive and emulate the labors of antiquity. Prostrate obelisks
+were raised from the ground and erected in the most conspicuous
+places; of the eleven aqueducts of the C&aelig;sars and consuls,
+three were restored; the artificial rivers were conducted over a
+long series of old, or of new arches, to discharge into marble
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 6332]</a></span>
+basins a flood of salubrious and refreshing waters: and the spectator,
+impatient to ascend the steps of St. Peter's, is detained by
+a column of Egyptian granite, which rises between two lofty and
+perpetual fountains to the height of one hundred and twenty
+feet. The map, the description, the monuments of ancient Rome
+have been elucidated by the diligence of the antiquarian and the
+student; and the footsteps of heroes, the relics, not of superstition
+but of empire, are devoutly visited by a new race of pilgrims
+from the remote and once savage countries of the North.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">All the foregoing selections are made from 'The History of the Decline and
+Fall of the Roman Empire'</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 6333]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT" id="WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT"></a>WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT</h2>
+
+<h4>(1836-)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capw.png" width="90" height="91" alt="W" title="W" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">hen, after appearing from time to time in the London Fun,
+the 'Bab Ballads' were published in book form in 1870,
+everybody, young and old, found them provocative of hearty
+laughter. "Much sound and little sense," was the title-page motto.
+Perhaps the fact that Mr. Gilbert's readers did not know why they
+laughed was one great charm of the ballads. The humor was felt,
+not analyzed, and involved no mental fatigue. If there was "little
+sense," no continuity of meaning, there was usually significant suggestion;
+and social foibles were touched off
+with good-natured irony in a delightfully
+inconsequent fashion. The "much sound"
+was a spirited lyric swing which clung to
+the memory, a rich rhythm, and a rollicking
+spontaneity, which disregarded considerations
+of grammar and pronunciation in a
+way that only added to the fun.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/gilbert.png" width="170" height="213" alt="William S. Gilbert" title="William S. Gilbert" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">William S. Gilbert</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The 'Bab Ballads,' and 'More Bab Ballads'
+which appeared in 1872, have become
+classic. In many of them may be found the
+germs of the librettos which have made Gilbert
+famous in comic opera. 'Pinafore,'
+'The Mikado,' 'Patience,' and many others
+of a long and well-known list written to Sir
+Arthur Sullivan's music, have furnished the public with many popular
+songs. A volume of dainty lyrics has been made up from them; and,
+entitled 'Songs of a Savoyard' (from the Savoy Theatre of London,
+where the operas were first represented), was published in 1890.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilbert was born in London November 18th, 1836, and educated
+in that city; after his graduation from the University of London
+he studied law, and was called to the bar of the Inner Temple in
+1863. Five years later he became a captain of the Royal Aberdeenshire
+Highlanders. The success of his first play, 'Dulcamara,' in
+1866, led him to abandon the law, and he has since devoted himself
+to authorship.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 6334]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CAPTAIN_REECE" id="CAPTAIN_REECE"></a>CAPTAIN REECE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of all the ships upon the blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No ship contained a better crew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than that of worthy Captain Reece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commanding of The Mantlepiece.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He was adored by all his men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For worthy Captain Reece, R.N.,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did all that lay within him to<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Promote the comfort of his crew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If ever they were dull or sad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their captain danced to them like mad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or told, to make the time pass by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Droll legends of his infancy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A feather-bed had every man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warm slippers and hot-water can,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brown Windsor from the captain's store;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A valet, too, to every four.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Did they with thirst in summer burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! seltzogenes at every turn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on all very sultry days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cream ices handed round on trays.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then, currant wine and ginger pops<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood handily on all the "tops";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And also, with amusement rife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">New volumes came across the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Mr. Mudie's libraree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Times and Saturday Review<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beguiled the leisure of the crew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Kind-hearted Captain Reece, R.N.,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was quite devoted to his men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In point of fact, good Captain Reece<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beatified The Mantelpiece.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One summer eve, at half-past ten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said (addressing all his men):&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come, tell me, please, what I can do<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To please and gratify my crew.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 6335]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By any reasonable plan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll make you happy if I can,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My own convenience count as <i>nil:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then up and answered William Lee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The kindly captain's coxwain he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A nervous, shy, low-spoken man);<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cleared his throat, and thus began:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"You have a daughter, Captain Reece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten female cousins and a niece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A ma, if what I'm told is true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Six sisters, and an aunt or two.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More friendly-like we all should be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If you united of 'em to<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmarried members of the crew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If you'd ameliorate our life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let each select from them a wife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as for nervous me, old pal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give me your own enchanting gal!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good Captain Reece, that worthy man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Debated on his coxwain's plan:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I quite agree," he said, "O Bill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My daughter, that enchanting gurl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has just been promised to an Earl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all my other familee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To peers of various degree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But what are dukes and viscounts to<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The happiness of all my crew?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The word I gave you I'll fulfill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As you desire it shall befall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll settle thousands on you all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I shall be, despite my hoard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The only bachelor on board."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The boatswain of the Mantelpiece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He blushed and spoke to Captain Reece:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 6336]</a></span><span class="i0">"I beg your Honor's leave," he said:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If you would wish to go and wed,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I have a widowed mother who<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would be the very thing for you&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She long has loved you from afar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She washes for you, Captain R."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The captain saw the dame that day&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Addressed her in his playful way:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And did it want a wedding ring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was a tempting ickle sing!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll all be married this day week<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At yonder church upon the hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And widowed ma of Captain Reece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attended there as they were bid:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was their duty, and they did.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_YARN_OF_THE_NANCY_BELL" id="THE_YARN_OF_THE_NANCY_BELL"></a>THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas on the shores that round our coast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Deal to Ramsgate span,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I found alone on a piece of stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An elderly naval man.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His hair was weedy, his beard was long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And weedy and long was he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I heard this wight on the shore recite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a singular minor key:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till I really felt afraid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And so I simply said:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 6337]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O elderly man, it's little I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the duties of men of the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll eat my hand if I understand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">However you can be<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"At once a cook, and a captain bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And he gave a hitch to his trousers, which<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is a trick all seamen larn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And having got rid of a thumping quid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He spun his painful yarn:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That we sailed to the Indian Sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there on a reef we come to grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which has often occurred to me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(There was seventy-seven o' soul),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only ten of the Nancy's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There was me and the cook and the captain bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till a-hungry we did feel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So we drawed a lot, and accordin', shot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The captain for our meal.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a delicate dish he made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then our appetite with the midshipmite<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We seven survivors stayed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he much resembled pig;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then we wittled free, did the cook and me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the crew of the captain's gig.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then only the cook and me was left,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the delicate question, 'Which<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 6338]</a></span><span class="i0">Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we argued it out as sich.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the cook he worshiped me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the other chap's hold, you see.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were a foolish thing to do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For don't you see that you can't cook <i>me</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While I can&mdash;and will&mdash;cook <i>you</i>?'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"So he boils the water, and takes the salt<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the pepper in portions true<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And some sage and parsley too.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which his smiling features tell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"'Twill soothing be if I let you see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How extremely nice you'll smell.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And he stirred it round and round and round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he sniffed at the foaming froth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the scum of the boiling broth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And I eat that cook in a week or less,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And&mdash;as I eating be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For a wessel in sight I see!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And I never larf, and I never smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I never lark nor play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sit and croak, and a single joke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I have&mdash;which is to say:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig!'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 6339]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_BISHOP_OF_RUM-TI-FOO" id="THE_BISHOP_OF_RUM-TI-FOO"></a>THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From east and south the holy clan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bishops gathered to a man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Synod, called Pan-Anglican,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In flocking crowds they came.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among them was a bishop who<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had lately been appointed to<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Peter was his name.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His people&mdash;twenty-three in sum&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They played the eloquent tum-tum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lived on scalps served up in rum&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The only sauce they knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When first good Bishop Peter came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(For Peter was that bishop's name),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To humor them, he did the same<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they of Rum-ti-Foo.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His flock, I've often heard him tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(His name was Peter) loved him well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And summoned by the sound of bell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In crowds together came.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Oh, massa, why you go away?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, Massa Peter, please to stay."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(They called him Peter, people say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Because it was his name.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He told them all good boys to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sailed away across the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At London Bridge that bishop he<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Arrived one Tuesday night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as that night he homeward strode<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To his Pan-Anglican abode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He passed along the Borough Road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And saw a gruesome sight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He saw a crowd assembled round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A person dancing on the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who straight began to leap and bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With all his might and main.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see that dancing man he stopped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then down incontinently dropped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And then sprang up again.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 6340]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The bishop chuckled at the sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"This style of dancing would delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll learn it if I can,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To please the tribe when I get back."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He begged the man to teach his knack.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Right reverend sir, in half a crack!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Replied that dancing man.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dancing man he worked away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And taught the bishop every day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dancer skipped like any fay&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Good Peter did the same.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bishop buckled to his task,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With <i>battements</i> and <i>pas de basque</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(I'll tell you, if you care to ask,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That Peter was his name.)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come, walk like this," the dancer said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Stick out your toes&mdash;stick in your head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your fingers thus extend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The attitude's considered quaint."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The weary bishop, feeling faint,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Replied, "I do not say it ain't,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But 'Time!' my Christian friend!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"We now proceed to something new:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dance as the Paynes and Lauris do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like this&mdash;one, two&mdash;one, two&mdash;one, two."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bishop, never proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in an overwhelming heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(His name was Peter, I repeat)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Performed the Payne and Lauri feat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And puffed his thanks aloud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Another game the dancer planned:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Just take your ankle in your hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And try, my lord, if you can stand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your body stiff and stark.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If when revisiting your see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You learnt to hop on shore, like me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The novelty would striking be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And must attract remark."<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 6341]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No," said the worthy bishop, "no;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is a length to which, I trow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Colonial bishops cannot go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You may express surprise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At finding bishops deal in pride&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if that trick I ever tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should appear undignified<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Rum-ti-Foozle's eyes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are well-conducted persons, who<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Approve a joke as much as you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And laugh at it as such;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if they saw their bishop land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His leg supported in his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The joke they wouldn't understand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twould pain them very much!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="GENTLE_ALICE_BROWN" id="GENTLE_ALICE_BROWN"></a>GENTLE ALICE BROWN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode).<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Alice was a pious girl, who knew it wasn't wise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O holy father," Alice said, "'twould grieve you, would it not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To discover that I was a most disreputable lot?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy one!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The padre said, "Whatever have you been and gone and done?"<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 6342]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Girls will be girls&mdash;you're very young, and flighty in your mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let's see&mdash;five crimes at half-a-crown&mdash;exactly twelve-and-six."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O father," little Alice cried, "your kindness makes me weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You do these little things for me so singularly cheap;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But oh! there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a-catching flies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He passes by it every day as certain as can be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I blush to say I've winked at him and he has winked at me!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For shame!" said Father Paul, "my erring daughter! On my word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are the most remunerative customers I know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many, many years they've kept starvation from my doors:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never knew so criminal a family as yours!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The common country folk in this insipid neighborhood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have nothing to confess, they're so ridiculously good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if you marry any one respectable at all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why, you'll reform, and what will then become of Father Paul?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And started off in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good Robber Brown he muffled up his anger pretty well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, "I have a notion, and that notion I will tell:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 6343]</a></span><span class="i0">I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He watched his opportunity, and seized him unaware;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went to bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And pretty little Alice grew more settled in her mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her pretty hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_CAPTAIN_AND_THE_MERMAIDS" id="THE_CAPTAIN_AND_THE_MERMAIDS"></a>THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I sing a legend of the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hard-a-port upon your lee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A ship on starboard tack!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She's bound upon a private cruise&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(This is the kind of spice I use<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To give a salt-sea smack).<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold, on every afternoon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Save in a gale or strong monsoon)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Great Captain Capel Cleggs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Great morally, though rather short)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat at an open weather-port<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And aired his shapely legs.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And mermaids hung around in flocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On cable chains and distant rocks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To gaze upon those limbs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For legs like those, of flesh and bone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are things "not generally known"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To any merman timbs.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But mermen didn't seem to care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much time (as far as I'm aware)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With Cleggs's legs to spend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though mermaids swam around all day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gazed, exclaiming, "<i>That's</i> the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A gentleman should end!<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 6344]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A pair of legs with well-cut knees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And calves and ankles such as these<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which we in rapture hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are far more eloquent, it's clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(When clothed in silk and kerseymere),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than any nasty tail."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Cleggs&mdash;a worthy, kind old boy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rejoiced to add to others' joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when the day was dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because it pleased the lookers-on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sat from morn till night&mdash;though con-<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stitutionally shy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At first the mermen laughed, "Pooh! pooh!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But finally they jealous grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sounded loud recalls;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But vainly. So these fishy males<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Declared they too would clothe their tails<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In silken hose and smalls.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They set to work, these watermen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made their nether robes&mdash;but when<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They drew with dainty touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The kerseymere upon their tails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They found it scraped against their scales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hurt them very much.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The silk, besides, with which they chose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To deck their tails by way of hose<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(They never thought of shoon)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For such a use was much too thin,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It tore against the caudal fin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And "went in ladders" soon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So they designed another plan:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sent their most seductive man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This note to him to show:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Our Monarch sends to Captain Cleggs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His humble compliments, and begs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He'll join him down below;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"We've pleasant homes below the sea&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, if Captain Cleggs should be<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(As our advices say)<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 6345]</a></span><span class="i0">A judge of mermaids, he will find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our lady fish of every kind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Inspection will repay."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good Capel sent a kind reply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Capel thought he could descry<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An admirable plan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To study all their ways and laws&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(But not their lady fish, because<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He was a married man).<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The merman sank&mdash;the captain too<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jumped overboard, and dropped from view<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like stone from catapult;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when he reached the merman's lair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He certainly was welcomed there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But ah! with what result!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They didn't let him learn their law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or make a note of what he saw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or interesting mem.;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lady fish he couldn't find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that, of course, he didn't mind&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He didn't come for them.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For though when Captain Capel sank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mermen drawn in double rank<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gave him a hearty hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet when secure of Captain Cleggs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cut off both his lovely legs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gave him <i>such</i> a tail!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When Captain Cleggs returned aboard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see him altered so.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The admiralty did insist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he upon the half-pay list<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Immediately should go.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In vain declared the poor old salt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It's my misfortune&mdash;not my fault,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With tear and trembling lip&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain poor Capel begged and begged.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"A man must be completely legged<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who rules a British ship."<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 6346]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So spake the stern First Lord aloud,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was a wag, though very proud,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And much rejoiced to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"You're only half a captain now&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so, my worthy friend, I vow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You'll only get half-pay!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">All the above selections are made from 'Fifty Bab Ballads.'</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 6347]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER" id="RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER"></a>RICHARD WATSON GILDER</h2>
+
+<h4>(1844-)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capr.png" width="90" height="90" alt="R" title="R" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">ichard Watson Gilder is the son of a clergyman, the Rev.
+William H. Gilder, who published two literary reviews in
+Philadelphia. He was born in Bordentown, New Jersey,
+February 8th, 1844, and with such ancestry and home influence came
+easily to journalism and literary work. He got his schooling in the
+Bellevue Seminary, which was founded by his father. As with so
+many young Americans of the time, the war came to interrupt his
+studies; and in 1863 he served in the "Emergency Corps," in the
+defense of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Mr. Gilder
+is one of the American writers who
+have successfully combined journalism and
+literature. He began by doing newspaper
+work, and then by a natural transition became
+in 1869 editor of Hours at Home, and
+shortly thereafter associate editor of Scribner's
+Magazine with Dr. J. G. Holland.
+This representative monthly was changed
+in name to The Century, and upon the
+death of Dr. Holland in 1881 Mr. Gilder
+became its editor-in-chief. His influence in
+this conspicuous position has been wholesome
+and helpful in the encouraging of literature,
+and in the discussion of current
+questions of importance through a popular medium which reaches great
+numbers of the American people. The Century under his direction
+has been receptive to young writers and artists of ability, and many
+since known to fame made their maiden appearance in its pages.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/gilder.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Richard W. Gilder" title="Richard W. Gilder" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Richard W. Gilder</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In addition to his influence on the literary movement, Mr. Gilder
+has been active in philanthropic and political work. He has secured
+legislation for the improvement of tenements in cities; he has taken
+interest in the formation of public kindergartens; and given of his
+time and strength to further other reforms. His influence in New
+York City, too, has been a factor in developing the social aspects of
+literary and art life there. From Dickinson College he has received
+the degree of LL.D., and from Princeton that of L.H.D.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilder's reputation as a writer is based upon his verse.
+Only very occasionally does he publish an essay, though thoughtful,
+strongly written editorials from his pen in his magazine are frequent.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 6348]</a></span>
+But it is his verse-writing that has given him his place&mdash;a distinct
+and honorable one&mdash;in American letters. The fine quality and promise
+of his work was recognized upon the publication of 'The New
+Day' in 1875, a first volume which was warmly received. It showed
+the influence of Italian studies, and contained lyric work of much
+imaginative beauty. The musicalness of it and the delicately ideal
+treatment of the love passion were noticeable characteristics. In his
+subsequent books&mdash;'The Celestial Passion,' 1887; 'Lyrics,' 1885 and
+1887; 'Two Worlds, and Other Poems,' 1891; 'The Great Remembrance,
+and Other Poems,' 1893: the contents of these being gathered
+finally into the one volume 'Five Books of Song,' 1894&mdash;he has given
+further proof of his genuine lyric gift, his work in later years having
+a wider range of themes, a broadening vision and deepening purpose.
+He remains nevertheless essentially a lyrist, a maker of songs; a thorough
+artist who has seriousness, dignity, and charm. His is an earnest
+nature, sensitive alike to vital contemporaneous problems and to
+the honey-sweet voice of the Ideal.</p>
+
+<p>[All the following citations from Mr. Gilder's poems are copyrighted, and
+are reprinted here by special permission of the author and his publishers.]</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="TWO_SONGS_FROM_THE_NEW_DAY" id="TWO_SONGS_FROM_THE_NEW_DAY"></a>TWO SONGS FROM 'THE NEW DAY'</h3>
+
+<h4>I</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not from the whole wide world I chose thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wide, wide world could not inclose thee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou art the whole wide world to me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4>II</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Years have flown since I knew thee first,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I know thee as water is known of thirst;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I knew thee of old at the first sweet sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou art strange to me, Love, to-night.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="DARK_THE_SOLEMN_SUNSET" id="DARK_THE_SOLEMN_SUNSET"></a>"ROSE-DARK THE SOLEMN SUNSET"</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rose-dark the solemn sunset<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That holds my thought of thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one star in the heavens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And one star in the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On high no lamp is lighted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor where the long waves flow.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 6349]</a></span><span class="i0">Save the one star of evening<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the shadow star below.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Light of my life, the darkness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Comes with the twilight dream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art the bright star shining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I but the shadowy gleam.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="NON_SINE_DOLORE" id="NON_SINE_DOLORE"></a>NON SINE DOLORE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">What, then, is Life,&mdash;what Death?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thus the Answerer saith;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O faithless mortal, bend thy head and listen:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Down o'er the vibrant strings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thrill, and moan, and mourn, and glisten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The Master draws his bow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A voiceless pause: then upward, see, it springs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free as a bird with unimprisoned wings!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In twain the chord was cloven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">While, shaken with woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With breaks of instant joy all interwoven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Piercing the heart with lyric knife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">On, on the ceaseless music sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Restless, intense, serene;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life is the downward stroke; the upward, Life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Death but the pause between.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Questioner: If 't were only this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Ah, who could face the abyss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That plunges steep athwart each human breath?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">If the new birth of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meant only more of Life as mortals know it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What priestly balm, what song of highest poet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could heal one sentient soul's immitigable pain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">All, all were vain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If, having soared pure spirit at the last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free from the impertinence and warp of flesh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We find half joy, half pain, on every blast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are caught again in closer-woven mesh&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Ah! who would care to die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From out these fields and hills, and this familiar sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These firm, sure hands that compass us, this dear humanity?<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 6350]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Again the Answerer saith:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">O ye of little faith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shall then the spirit prove craven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Death's divine deliverance but give<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">A summer rest and haven?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By all most noble in us, by the light that streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Into our waking dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, we who know what Life is, let us live!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Clearer and freer, who shall doubt?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Something of dust and darkness cast forever out;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But Life, still Life, that leads to higher Life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even though the highest be not free from immortal strife.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The highest! Soul of man, oh be thou bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And to the brink of thought draw near, behold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Where, on the earth's green sod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where, where in all the universe of God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Hath strife forever ceased?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When hath not some great orb flashed into space<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The terror of its doom? When hath no human face<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Turned earthward in despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For that some horrid sin had stamped its image there?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">If at our passing Life be Life increased,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And we ourselves flame pure unfettered soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like the Eternal Power that made the whole<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">And lives in all he made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From shore of matter to the unknown spirit shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If, sire to son, and tree to limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cycle on countless cycle more and more<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">We grow to be like him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If he lives on, serene and unafraid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through all his light, his love, his living thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One with the sufferer, be it soul or star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If he escape not pain, what beings that are<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can e'er escape while Life leads on and up the unseen way and far?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If he escape not, by whom all was wrought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Then shall not we,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whate'er of godlike solace still may be,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For in all worlds there is no Life without a pang, and can be naught.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">No Life without a pang! It were not Life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If ended were the strife&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Man were not man, nor God were truly God!<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">See from the sod<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 6351]</a></span><span class="i2">The lark thrill skyward in an arrow of song:<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Even so from pain and wrong<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upsprings the exultant spirit, wild and free.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He knows not all the joy of liberty<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who never yet was crushed 'neath heavy woe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">He doth not know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Nor can, the bliss of being brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who never hath faced death, nor with unquailing eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Hath measured his own grave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Courage, and pity, and divinest scorn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Self-scorn, self-pity, and high courage of the soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">The passion for the goal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The strength to never yield though all be lost&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">All these are born<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of endless strife; this is the eternal cost<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of every lovely thought that through the portal<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of human minds doth pass with following light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Blanch not, O trembling mortal!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But with extreme and terrible delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Know thou the truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor let thy heart be heavy with false ruth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">No passing burden is our earthly sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That shall depart in some mysterious morrow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Tis His one universe where'er we are&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">One changeless law from sun to viewless star.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Were sorrow evil here, evil it were forever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beyond the scope and help of our most keen endeavor<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">God doth not dote,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His everlasting purpose shall not fail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Here where our ears are weary with the wail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weeping of the sufferers; there where the Pleiads float&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Here, there, forever, pain most dread and dire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Doth bring the intensest bliss, the dearest and most sure.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Tis not from Life aside, it doth endure<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Deep in the secret heart of all existence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">It is the inward fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The heavenly urge, and the divine insistence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Uplift thine eyes, O Questioner, from the sod!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">It were no longer Life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If ended were the strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Man were not man, God were not truly God.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 6352]</a></span></p>
+<h3>"HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS"</h3>
+
+
+<h4>I</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">If songs were perfume, color, wild desire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">If poets' words were fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If with a bird-like thrill the moments throbbed to hours;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">If summer's rains<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Turned drop by drop to shy, sweet, maiden flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If God made flowers with light and music in them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And saddened hearts could win them;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If loosened petals touched the ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">With a caressing sound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">If love's eyes uttered word<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No listening lover e'er before had heard;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">If silent thoughts spake with a bugle's voice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If flame passed into song and cried, "Rejoice! Rejoice!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If words could picture life's, hope's, heaven's eclipse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the last kiss has fallen on dying eyes and lips;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">If all of mortal woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Struck on one heart with breathless blow on blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If melody were tears, and tears were starry gleams<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That shone in evening's amethystine dreams;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah yes, if notes were stars, each star a different hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Trembling to earth in dew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or if the boreal pulsings, rose and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Made a majestic music in the night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">If all the orbs lost in the light of day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the deep, silent blue began their harps to play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when in frightening skies the lightnings flashed<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">And storm-clouds crashed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If every stroke of light and sound were but excess of beauty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">If human syllables could e'er refashion<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">That fierce electric passion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If other art could match (as were the poet's duty)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The grieving, and the rapture, and the thunder<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Of that keen hour of wonder,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That light as if of heaven, that blackness as of hell,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How Paderewski plays then might I dare to tell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4>II</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">How Paderewski plays! And was it he<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or some disbodied spirit which had rushed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From silence into singing; and had crushed<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 6353]</a></span><span class="i2">Into one startled hour a life's felicity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And highest bliss of knowledge&mdash;that all life, grief, wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Turn at the last to beauty and to song!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE SONNET</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A precious jewel carved most curiously;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a little picture painted well.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From a great poet's hidden ecstasy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A two-edged sword, a star, a song&mdash;ah me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes a heavy-tolling funeral bell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This was the flame that shook with Dante's breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The solemn organ whereon Milton played,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A sea this is&mdash;beware who ventureth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For like a fiord the narrow floor is laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mid-ocean deep to the sheer mountain walls.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="AMERICA" id="AMERICA"></a>AMERICA</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'The Great Remembrance'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Land that we love! Thou Future of the World!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou refuge of the noble heart oppressed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, never be thy shining image hurled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From its high place in the adoring breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him who worships thee with jealous love!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep thou thy starry forehead as the dove<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All white, and to the eternal Dawn inclined!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art not for thyself, but for mankind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to despair of thee were to despair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of man, of man's high destiny, of God!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of thee should man despair, the journey trod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upward, through unknown eons, stair on stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By this our race, with bleeding feet and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were but the pathway to a darker woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than yet was visioned by the heavy heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of prophet. To despair of thee! Ah no!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou thyself art Hope; Hope of the World thou art!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 6354]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="ON_THE_LIFEMASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN" id="ON_THE_LIFEMASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN"></a>ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This bronze doth keep the very form and mold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That brow all wisdom, all benignity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For storms to beat on; the lone agony<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As might some prophet of the elder day&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Brooding above the tempest and the fray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A power was his beyond the touch of art<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or arm&egrave;d strength&mdash;his pure and mighty heart.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>"CALL ME NOT DEAD"</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Call me not dead when I, indeed, have gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into the company of the ever-living<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">High and most glorious poets! Let thanksgiving<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rather be made. Say:&mdash;"He at last hath won<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rest and release, converse supreme and wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Music and song and light of immortal faces;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day, perhaps, wandering in starry places,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hath met Keats, and known him by his eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow (who can say?) Shakespeare may pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And our lost friend just catch one syllable<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of that three-centuried wit that kept so well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Milton; or Dante, looking on the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thinking of Beatrice, and listening still<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To chanted hymns that sound from the heavenly hill."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>AFTER-SONG</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'The New Day'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through love to light! Oh, wonderful the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That leads from darkness to the perfect day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From darkness and from sorrow of the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To morning that comes singing o'er the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through love to light! Through light, O God, to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who art the love of love, the eternal light of light!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 6355]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI" id="GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI"></a>GIUSEPPE GIUSTI</h2>
+
+<h4>(1809-1850)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capg.png" width="90" height="90" alt="G" title="G" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">iuseppe Giusti, an Italian satirical poet, was born of an influential
+family, May 12th, 1809, in the little village of Monsummano,
+which lies between Pistoja and Pescia, and was
+in every fibre of his nature a Tuscan. As a child he imbibed the
+healthful, sunny atmosphere of that Campagna, and grew up loving
+the world and his comrades, but with a dislike of study which convinced
+himself and his friends that he was born to no purpose. He
+was early destined to the bar, and began his law studies in Pistoja
+and Lucca, completing them a number of
+years later at Pisa, where he obtained his
+degree of doctor.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/giusti.png" width="170" height="228" alt="Giuseppe Giusti" title="Giuseppe Giusti" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Giuseppe Giusti</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In 1834 he went to Florence, under pretence
+of practicing with the advocate Capoquadri;
+but here as elsewhere he spent
+his time in the world of gayety, whose fascination
+and whose absurdity he seems to
+have felt with equal keenness. His dislike
+of study found its exception in his love of
+Dante, of whom he was a reverent student.
+He was himself continually versifying, and
+his early romantic lyrics are inspired by
+lofty thought. His penetrating humor, however,
+and his instinctive sarcasm, whose
+expression was never unkind, led him soon to abandon idealism and
+to distinguish himself in the field of satire, which has no purer representative
+than he. His compositions are short and terse, and are
+seldom blemished by personalities. He was wont to say that absurd
+persons did not merit even the fame of infamy. He leveled his wit
+against the lethargy and immoralities of the times, and revealed them
+clear-cut in the light of his own stern principles and patriotism.</p>
+
+<p>The admiration and confidence which he now began to receive
+from the public was to him a matter almost of consternation, wont
+as he was to consider himself a good-for-nothing. He confesses
+somewhat bashfully however that there was always within him,
+half afraid of itself, an instinct of power which led him to say in
+his heart, Who knows what I may be with time? His frail constitution
+and almost incessant physical suffering account for a natural
+indolence against which he constantly inveighs, but above which he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 6356]</a></span>
+was powerless to rise except at vehement intervals. No carelessness,
+however, marks his work. He was a tireless reviser, and possessed
+the rare power of cutting, polishing, and finishing his work
+with exquisite nicety, without robbing it of vigor. His writings exerted
+a distinct political and moral influence. His is not alone the
+voice of pitiless and mocking irony, but it is that of the humanitarian,
+who in overthrow and destruction sees only the first step toward
+the creation of something better. When war broke out he laid aside
+his pen, saying that this was no time for a poet to pull down, and
+that his was not the power to build up. His health forbade his
+entering the army, which was a cause of poignant sorrow to him.
+His faith in Italy and her people and in the final triumph of unity
+remained unshaken and sublime in the midst of every reverse.</p>
+
+<p>His mastery of the Tuscan dialect and his elegance of idiom won
+him membership in the Accademia della Crusca; but his love for
+Tuscany was always subservient to his love for Italy. To those who
+favored the division of the peninsula, he used to reply that he had
+but one fatherland, and that was a unit. He died in Florence,
+March 31, 1850, at the home of his devoted friend the Marquis Gino
+Capponi. In the teeth of Austrian prohibition, a throng of grateful
+and loving citizens followed his body to the church of San Miniato
+al Monte, remembering that at a time when freedom of thought
+was deemed treason, this man had fearlessly raised the battle-cry
+and prepared the way for the insurrection of 1848. Besides his satires,
+Giusti has left us a life of the poet Giuseppe Parini, a collection of
+Tuscan proverbs, and an unedited essay on the 'Divine Comedy.'</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="LULLABY" id="LULLABY"></a>LULLABY</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Gingillino'</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[The poem of 'Gingillino,' one of Giusti's finest satires, is full of personal
+hits, greatly enjoyed by the author's countrymen. The 'Lullaby' is sung by
+a number of personified Vices round the cradle of the infant Gingillino, who,
+having come into the world naked and possessed of nothing, is admonished
+how to behave if he would go out of it well dressed and rich. A few verses
+only are given out of the many. The whole poem was one of the most popular
+of all Giusti's satires.]</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cry not, dear baby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of nothing possessed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if thou wouldst, dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Expire well dressed....<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let nothing vex thee,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Love's silly story,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 6357]</a></span><span class="i0">Ghosts of grand festivals<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spectres of glory;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let naught annoy thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The burdens of fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The manifold perils<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That wait on a name.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Content thyself, baby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With learning to read:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don't be vainglorious;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That's all thou canst need.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All promptings of genius<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Confine in thy breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thou wouldst, baby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Expire well dressed....<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let not God nor Devil<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Concern thy poor wits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell no more truth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than politeness permits.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With thy soul and thy body,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still worship the Real;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever attempt<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To pursue the Ideal.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As for thy scruples,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let them be suppressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thou wouldst, baby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Expire well dressed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_STEAM-GUILLOTINE" id="THE_STEAM-GUILLOTINE"></a>THE STEAM-GUILLOTINE</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[The monarch satirized in this poem was Francesco IV., Duke of Modena,
+a petty Nero, who executed not a few of the Italian patriots of 1831.]</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A most wonderful steam-machine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One time set up in China-land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outdid the insatiate guillotine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For in three hours, you understand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It cut off a hundred thousand heads<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">In a row, like hospital beds.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 6358]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This innovation stirred a breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And some of the bonzes even thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their barbarous country by degrees<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To civilization might be brought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaving Europeans, with their schools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Looking like fools.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Emperor was an honest man&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A little stiff, and dull of pate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like other asses, hard and slow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He loved his subjects and the State,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And patronized all clever men<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Within his ken.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His people did not like to pay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their taxes and their other dues,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cheated the revenue, sad to say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So their good ruler thought he'd choose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the best argument he'd seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">This sweet machine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The thing's achievements were so great,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They gained a pension for the man,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The executioner of State,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who got a patent for his plan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides becoming a Mandarin<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Of great Pekin.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A courtier cried: "Good guillotine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let's up and christen it, I say!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, why," cries to his counselor keen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A Nero of our present day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Why was not born within <i>my</i> State<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">A man so great?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 6359]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GLADSTONE" id="GLADSTONE"></a>
+<span class="caption">WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE.</span>
+<img src="images/gladstone.jpg" width="100%" alt="WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE." title="WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE." />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="WILLIAM_EWART_GLADSTONE" id="WILLIAM_EWART_GLADSTONE"></a>WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE</h2>
+
+<h4>(1809-)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capi.png" width="90" height="90" alt="I" title="I" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">n view of his distinguished career, it is interesting to know
+that it is a part of Mr. Gladstone's unresting ambition to
+take a place among the literary men of the time, and to
+guide the thoughts of his countrymen in literary as well as in political,
+social, and economic subjects. Mr. Gladstone's preparation to
+become a man of letters was extensive. Born in Liverpool December
+29th, 1809, he was sent to Eton and afterwards to Oxford, where he
+took the highest honors, and was the most remarkable graduate of
+his generation. His fellow students carried away a vivid recollection
+of his <i>viva voce</i> examination for his degree: the tall figure, the flashing
+eye, the mobile countenance, in the midst of the crowd who
+pressed to hear him, while the examiners plied him with questions
+till, tested in some difficult point in theology, the candidate exclaimed,
+"Not yet, if you please" and began to pour forth a fresh
+store of learning and argument.</p>
+
+<p>From the university Mr. Gladstone carried away two passions&mdash;the
+one for Greek literature, especially Greek poetry, the other for
+Christian theology. The Oxford that formed these tastes was intensely
+conservative in politics, representing the aristocratic system
+of English society and the exclusiveness of the Established Church,
+whose creed was that of the fourth century. Ecclesiasticism is not
+friendly to literature; but how far Oxford's most loyal son was
+permeated by ecclesiasticism is a matter of opinion. Fortunately, personality
+is stronger than dogma, and ideas than literary form; and
+Mr. Gladstone, than whom few men outside the profession of letters
+have written more, is always sure of an intelligent hearing. His discussion
+of a subject seems to invest it with some of his own marvelous
+vitality; and when he selects a book for review, he is said to
+make the fortune of both publisher and author, if only the title be
+used as a crotchet to hang his sermon on.</p>
+
+<p>And this not merely because curiosity is excited concerning the
+opinion of the greatest living Englishman (for notwithstanding his
+political vacillations, his views on inward and higher subjects have
+little changed since his Oxford days, and may easily be prognosticated),
+but on account of the subtlety and fertility of his mind and
+the adroitness of his argument. Plunging into the heart of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 6360]</a></span>
+subject, he is at the same time working round it, holding it up
+for inspection in one light and then in another, reasoning from this
+premise and that; while the string of elucidations and explanations
+grows longer and longer, and the atmosphere of complexity thickens.
+It was out of such an atmosphere that a barrister advised his
+client, a bigamist, to get Mr. Gladstone to explain away one of his
+wives.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Gladstone made his debut as an author, he locked horns
+with Macaulay in the characteristic paper 'Church and State' (1837).
+He published his 'Studies in Homer and the Homeric Age' in 1858,
+'Juventus Mundi' in 1869, 'Homeric Synchronism' in 1857. In 1879
+most of his essays, political, social, economic, religious, and literary,
+written between 1843 and 1879, were collected in seven volumes, and
+appeared under the title of 'Gleanings of Past Years.' He has published
+a very great number of smaller writings not reprinted.</p>
+
+<p>From that time to the present, neither his industry nor his energy
+has abated; but he is probably at his best in the several remarkable
+essays on Blanco White, Bishop Patterson, Tennyson, Leopardi, and
+the position of the Church of England. The reader spoiled for the
+Scotch quality of weight by the "light touch" which is the graceful
+weapon of the age, wonders, when reading these essays, that Mr.
+Gladstone has not more assiduously cultivated the instinct of style,&mdash;sentence-making.
+Milton himself has not a higher conception of the
+business of literature; and when discussing these congenial themes,
+Mr. Gladstone's enthusiasm does not degenerate into vehemence, nor
+does he descend from the high moral plane from which he views the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>It is the province of the specialist to appraise Mr. Gladstone's
+Homeric writings; but even the specialist will not, perhaps, forbear
+to quote the axiom of the pugilist in the Iliad concerning the fate of
+him who would be skillful in all arts. No man is less a Greek in
+temperament, but no man cherishes deeper admiration for the Greek
+genius, and nowhere else is a more vivid picture of the life and politics
+of the heroic age held up to the unlearned. While the critic
+may question technical accuracy, or plausible structures built on
+insufficient data, the laity will remember how earnestly Mr. Gladstone
+insists that Homer is his own best interpreter, and that the student
+of the Iliad must go to the Greek text and not elsewhere for accurate
+knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>But Greek literature is only one of Mr. Gladstone's two passions,
+and not the paramount one. That he would have been a great theologian
+had he been other than Mr. Gladstone, is generally admitted.
+And it is interesting to note that while he glories in the combats of
+the heroes of Hellas, his enthusiasm is as quickly kindled by the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 6361]</a></span>
+humilities of the early Church. He recognizes the prophetic quality
+of Homer, but he bows before the sublimer genius of an Isaiah, and
+sees in the lives and writings of the early Fathers the perfect bloom
+of human genius and character.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="MACAULAY" id="MACAULAY"></a>MACAULAY</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Gleanings of Past Years'</h4>
+
+<p>Lord Macaulay lived a life of no more than fifty-nine years
+and three months. But it was an extraordinarily full life,
+of sustained exertion; a high table-land, without depressions.
+If in its outer aspect there be anything wearisome, it is only the
+wearisomeness of reiterated splendors, and of success so uniform
+as to be almost monotonous. He speaks of himself as idle; but
+his idleness was more active, and carried with it hour by hour a
+greater expenditure of brain power, than what most men regard
+as their serious employments. He might well have been, in his
+mental career, the spoiled child of fortune; for all he tried succeeded,
+all he touched turned into gems and gold. In a happy
+childhood he evinced extreme precocity. His academical career
+gave sufficient, though not redundant, promise of after celebrity.
+The new Golden Age he imparted to the Edinburgh Review, and
+his first and most important, if not best, Parliamentary speeches
+in the grand crisis of the first Reform Bill, achieved for him,
+years before he had reached the middle point of life, what may
+justly be termed an immense distinction.</p>
+
+<p>For a century and more, perhaps no man in this country,
+with the exceptions of Mr. Pitt and of Lord Byron, had attained
+at thirty-two the fame of Macaulay. His Parliamentary success
+and his literary eminence were each of them enough, as they
+stood at this date, to intoxicate any brain and heart of a meaner
+order. But to these was added, in his case, an amount and
+quality of social attentions such as invariably partake of adulation
+and idolatry, and as perhaps the high circles of London
+never before or since have lavished on a man whose claims lay
+only in himself, and not in his descent, his rank, or his possessions....</p>
+
+<p>One of the very first things that must strike the observer of
+this man is, that he was very unlike to any other man. And
+yet this unlikeness, this monopoly of the model in which he
+was made, did not spring from violent or eccentric features of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 6362]</a></span>
+originality, for eccentricity he had none whatever, but from the
+peculiar mode in which the ingredients were put together to
+make up the composition. In one sense, beyond doubt, such
+powers as his famous memory, his rare power of illustration, his
+command of language, separated him broadly from others: but
+gifts like these do not make the man; and we now for the first
+time know that he possessed, in a far larger sense, the stamp of
+a real and strong individuality. The most splendid and complete
+assemblage of intellectual endowments does not of itself suffice
+to create an interest of the kind that is, and will be, now felt in
+Macaulay. It is from ethical gifts alone that such an interest
+can spring.</p>
+
+<p>These existed in him not only in abundance, but in forms
+distant from and even contrasted with the fashion of his intellectual
+faculties, and in conjunctions which come near to paradox.
+Behind the mask of splendor lay a singular simplicity; behind a
+literary severity which sometimes approached to vengeance, an
+extreme tenderness; behind a rigid repudiation of the sentimental,
+a sensibility at all times quick, and in the latest times
+almost threatening to sap, though never sapping, his manhood.
+He who as speaker and writer seemed above all others to represent
+the age and the world, had the real centre of his being in
+the simplest domestic tastes and joys. He for whom the mysteries
+of human life, thought, and destiny appear to have neither
+charm nor terror, and whose writings seem audibly to boast in
+every page of being bounded by the visible horizon of the practical
+and work-day sphere, yet in his virtues and in the combination
+of them; in his freshness, bounty, bravery; in his unshrinking
+devotion both to causes and to persons; and most of all, perhaps,
+in the thoroughly inborn and spontaneous character of all
+these gifts,&mdash;really recalls the age of chivalry and the lineaments
+of the ideal. The peculiarity, the <i>differentia</i> (so to speak) of
+Macaulay seems to us to lie in this: that while as we frankly
+think, there is much to question&mdash;nay, much here and there to
+regret or even censure&mdash;in his writings, the excess, or defect, or
+whatever it may be, is never really ethical, but is in all cases
+due to something in the structure and habits of his intellect.
+And again, it is pretty plain that the faults of that intellect were
+immediately associated with its excellences: it was in some sense,
+to use the language of his own Milton, "dark with excessive
+bright."...</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 6363]</a></span></p>
+<p>His moderation in luxuries and pleasures is the more notable
+and praiseworthy because he was a man who, with extreme
+healthiness of faculty, enjoyed keenly what he enjoyed at all.
+Take in proof the following hearty notice of a dinner <i>a quattr' occhi</i> to his friend: "Ellis came to dinner at seven. I gave him
+a lobster curry, woodcock, and macaroni. I think that I will
+note dinners, as honest Pepys did."</p>
+
+<p>His love of books was intense, and was curiously developed.
+In a walk he would devour a play or a volume. Once, indeed,
+his performance embraced no less than fourteen Books of the
+Odyssey. "His way of life," says Mr. Trevelyan, "would have
+been deemed solitary by others; but it was not solitary to him."
+This development blossomed into a peculiar specialism. Henderson's
+'Iceland' was "a favorite breakfast-book" with him. "Some
+books which I would never dream of opening at dinner please
+me at breakfast, and <i>vice vers&aacute;</i>!" There is more subtlety in this
+distinction than could easily be found in any passage of his writings.
+But how quietly both meals are handed over to the dominion
+of the master propensity! This devotion, however, was not
+without its drawbacks. Thought, apart from books and from
+composition, perhaps he disliked; certainly he eschewed. Crossing
+that evil-minded sea the Irish Channel at night in rough
+weather, he is disabled from reading; he wraps himself in a pea-jacket
+and sits upon the deck. What is his employment? He
+cannot sleep, or does not. What an opportunity for moving
+onward in the processes of thought, which ought to weigh on the
+historian! The wild yet soothing music of the waves would have
+helped him to watch the verging this way or that of the judicial
+scales, or to dive into the problems of human life and action
+which history continually is called upon to sound. No, he cared
+for none of this. He set about the marvelous feat of going
+over 'Paradise Lost' from memory, when he found he could
+still repeat half of it. In a word, he was always conversing, or
+recollecting, or reading, or composing; but reflecting never.</p>
+
+<p>The laboriousness of Macaulay as an author demands our
+gratitude; all the more because his natural speech was in sentences
+of set and ordered structure, well-nigh ready for the press.
+It is delightful to find that the most successful prose writer
+of the day was also the most painstaking. Here is indeed a literary
+conscience. The very same gratification may be expressed
+with reference to our most successful poet, Mr. Tennyson.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 6364]</a></span>
+Great is the praise due to the poet; still greater, from the
+nature of the case, that share which falls to the lot of Macaulay.
+For a poet's diligence is, all along, a honeyed work. He is ever
+traveling in flowery meads. Macaulay, on the other hand, unshrinkingly
+went through an immense mass of inquiry, which even
+he sometimes felt to be irksome, and which to most men would
+have been intolerable. He was perpetually picking the grain of
+corn out of the bushel of chaff. He freely chose to undergo the
+dust and heat and strain of battle, before he would challenge from
+the public the crown of victory. And in every way it was
+remarkable that he should maintain his lofty standard of conception
+and performance. Mediocrity is now, as formerly, dangerous,
+commonly fatal, to the poet; but among even the successful writers
+of prose, those who rise sensibly above it are the very rarest
+exceptions. The tests of excellence in prose are as much less
+palpable as the public appetite is less fastidious. Moreover, we
+are moving downward in this respect. The proportion of middling
+to good writing constantly and rapidly increases. With the
+average of performance, the standard of judgment progressively
+declines. The inexorable conscientiousness of Macaulay, his determination
+to put out nothing from his hand which his hand was
+still capable of improving, was a perfect godsend to the best
+hopes of our slipshod generation.</p>
+
+<p>It was naturally consequent upon this habit of treating composition
+in the spirit of art, that he should extend to the body
+of his books much of the regard and care which he so profusely
+bestowed upon their soul. We have accordingly had in him, at
+the time when the need was greatest, a most vigilant guardian
+of the language. We seem to detect rare and slight evidences
+of carelessness in his Journal: of which we can only say that in
+a production of the moment, written for himself alone, we are
+surprised that they are not more numerous and considerable. In
+general society, carelessness of usage is almost universal, and it is
+exceedingly difficult for an individual, however vigilant, to avoid
+catching some of the trashy or faulty usages which are continually
+in his ear. But in his published works his grammar, his
+orthography, nay, his punctuation (too often surrendered to the
+printer), are faultless. On these questions, and on the lawfulness
+or unlawfulness of a word, he may even be called an authority
+without appeal; and we cannot doubt that we owe it to
+his works, and to their boundless circulation, that we have not in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 6365]</a></span>
+this age witnessed a more rapid corruption and degeneration of
+the language.</p>
+
+<p>To the literary success of Macaulay it would be difficult to
+find a parallel in the history of recent authorship. For this and
+probably for all future centuries, we are to regard the public as
+the patron of literary men; and as a patron abler than any that
+went before to heap both fame and fortune on its favorites. Setting
+aside works of which the primary purpose was entertainment,
+Tennyson alone among the writers of our age, in point of
+public favor and of emolument following upon it, comes near to
+Macaulay. But Tennyson was laboriously cultivating his gifts
+for many years before he acquired a position in the eye of the
+nation. Macaulay, fresh from college in 1825, astonished the
+world by his brilliant and most imposing essay on Milton. Full-orbed,
+he was seen above the horizon; and full-orbed after thirty-five
+years of constantly emitted splendor, he sank beneath it.</p>
+
+<p>His gains from literature were extraordinary. The check for
+&pound;20,000 is known to all. But his accumulation was reduced by
+his bounty; and his profits would, it is evident, have been far
+larger still had he dealt with the products of his mind on the
+principles of economic science (which however he heartily professed),
+and sold his wares in the dearest market, as he undoubtedly
+acquired them in the cheapest. No one can measure the
+elevation of Macaulay's character above the mercenary level,
+without bearing in mind that for ten years after 1825 he was a
+poor and a contented man, though ministering to the wants of a
+father and a family reduced in circumstances; though in the
+blaze of literary and political success; and though he must have
+been conscious from the first of the possession of a gift which
+by a less congenial and more compulsory use would have rapidly
+led him to opulence. Yet of the comforts and advantages, both
+social and physical, from which he thus forbore, it is so plain
+that he at all times formed no misanthropic or ascetic, but on
+the contrary a very liberal and genial estimate. It is truly touching
+to find that never, except as a minister, until 1851, when he
+had already lived fifty years of his fifty-nine, did this favorite of
+fortune, this idol of society, allow himself the luxury of a carriage.</p>
+
+<p>It has been observed that neither in art nor letters did Macaulay
+display that faculty of the higher criticism which depends
+upon certain refined perceptions and the power of subtle analysis.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 6366]</a></span>
+His analysis was always rough, hasty, and sweeping, and his
+perceptions robust. By these properties it was that he was so
+eminently [Greek: phortikos], not in the vulgar sense of an appeal to spurious
+sentiment, but as one bearing his reader along by violence,
+as the River Scamander tried to bear Achilles. Yet he was
+never pretentious; and he said frankly of himself that a criticism
+like that of Lessing in his 'Laoco&ouml;n,' or of Goethe on 'Hamlet,'
+filled him with wonder and despair. His intense devotion to the
+great work of Dante is not perhaps in keeping with the general
+tenor of his tastes and attachments, but is in itself a circumstance
+of much interest.</p>
+
+<p>We remember however at least one observation of Macaulay's
+in regard to art, which is worth preserving. He observed that
+the mixture of gold with ivory in great works of ancient art&mdash;for
+example, in the Jupiter of Phidias&mdash;was probably a condescension
+to the tastes of the people who were to be the worshipers
+of the statue; and he noticed that in Christian times it has
+most rarely happened that productions great in art have also
+been the objects of warm popular veneration....</p>
+
+<p>It has been felt and pointed out in many quarters that Macaulay
+as a writer was the child, and became the type, of his
+country and his age. As fifty years ago the inscription "Bath"
+used to be carried on our letter-paper, so the word "English" is,
+as it were, in the water-mark of every leaf of Macaulay's writing.
+His country was not the Empire, nor was it the United
+Kingdom. It was not even Great Britain. Though he was
+descended in the higher, that is the paternal, half from Scottish
+ancestry, and was linked specially with that country through the
+signal virtues, the victorious labors, and the considerable reputation
+of his father Zachary,&mdash;his country was England. On this
+little spot he concentrated a force of admiration and of worship
+which might have covered all the world. But as in space, so in
+time, it was limited. It was the England of his own age.</p>
+
+<p>The higher energies of his life were as completely summed
+up in the present as those of Walter Scott were projected
+upon the past. He would not have filled an Abbotsford with
+armor and relics of the Middle Ages. He judges the men and
+institutions and events of other times by the instruments and
+measures of the present. The characters whom he admires are
+those who would have conformed to the type that was before his
+eyes: who would have moved with effect in the court, the camp,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 6367]</a></span>
+the senate, the drawing-room of to-day. He contemplates the
+past with no <i>desiderium</i>, no regretful longing, no sense of things
+admirable which are also lost and irrecoverable. Upon this limitation
+of his retrospects it follows in natural sequence that of
+the future he has no glowing anticipations, and even the present
+he is not apt to contemplate on its mysterious and ideal side.
+As in respect to his personal capacity of loving, so in regard
+to the corresponding literary power. The faculty was singularly
+intense, and yet it was spent within a narrow circle. There is
+a marked sign of this narrowness, in his disinclination even to
+look at the works of contemporaries whose tone or manner he
+disliked.</p>
+
+<p>It appears that this dislike, and the ignorance consequent
+upon it, applied to the works of Carlyle. Now, we may have
+much or little faith in Carlyle as a philosopher or as a historian.
+Half-lights and half-truths may be the utmost which, in these
+departments, his works will be found to yield. But the total
+want of sympathy is the more noteworthy, because the resemblances,
+though partial, are both numerous and substantial between
+these two remarkable men and powerful writers, as well
+in their strength as in their weakness. Both are honest; and
+both, notwithstanding honesty, are partisans. Each is vastly,
+though diversely, powerful in expression; and each is more powerful
+in expression than in thought. Both are, though variously,
+poets using the vehicle of prose. Both have the power of portraitures,
+extraordinary for vividness and strength. For comprehensive
+disquisition, for balanced and impartial judgments, the
+world will probably resort to neither; and if Carlyle gains on the
+comparison in his strong sense of the inward and the ideal, he
+loses in the absolute and violent character of his one-sidedness.
+Without doubt, Carlyle's licentious though striking peculiarities
+of style have been of a nature allowably to repel, so far as they
+go, one who was so rigid as Macaulay in his literary orthodoxy,
+and who so highly appreciated, and with such expenditure of
+labor, all that relates to the exterior or body of a book. Still,
+if there be resemblances so strong, the want of appreciation,
+which has possibly been reciprocal, seems to be partly of that
+nature which Aristotle would have explained by his favorite
+proverb, [Greek: keramens keramei].<a name="FNanchor_A_4" id="FNanchor_A_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> The discrepancy is like the discrepancy
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 6368]</a></span>
+of colors that are too near. Carlyle is at least a great fact in
+the literature of his time, and has contributed largely,&mdash;in some
+respects too largely,&mdash;toward forming its characteristic habits of
+thought. But on these very grounds he should not have been
+excluded from the horizon of a mind like Macaulay's, with all its
+large and varied and most active interests....</p>
+
+<p>There have been other men of our own generation, though
+very few, who if they have not equaled have approached Macaulay
+in power of memory, and who have certainly exceeded him
+in the unfailing accuracy of their recollections; and yet not in
+accuracy as to dates or names or quotations, or other matters of
+hard fact, when the question was one simply between ay and
+no. In these he may have been without a rival. In a list of
+kings, or popes, or senior wranglers, or prime ministers, or
+battles, or palaces, or as to the houses in Pall Mall or about
+Leicester Square, he might be followed with implicit confidence.
+But a large and important class of human recollections are not
+of this order: recollections for example of characters, of feelings,
+of opinions; of the intrinsic nature, details, and bearings of occurrences.
+And here it was that Macaulay's wealth "was unto
+him an occasion of falling." And that in two ways. First, the
+possessor of such a vehicle as his memory could not but have
+something of an overweening confidence in what it told him; and
+quite apart from any tendency to be vain or overbearing, he could
+hardly enjoy the benefits of that caution which arises from self-interest,
+and the sad experience of frequent falls.  But what is
+more, the possessor of so powerful a fancy could not but illuminate
+with the colors it supplied, the matters which he gathered
+into his great magazine, wherever the definiteness of their outline
+was not so rigid as to defy or disarm the action of the intruding
+and falsifying faculty.  Imagination could not alter the
+date of the battle of Marathon, of the Council of Nice, or the
+crowning of Pepin; but it might seriously or even fundamentally
+disturb the balance of light and dark in his account of the opinions
+of Milton or of Laud, or his estimate of the effects of the
+Protectorate or the Restoration, or of the character and even the
+adulteries of William III.  He could detect justly this want of
+dry light in others; he probably suspected it in himself; but it
+was hardly possible for him to be enough upon his guard against
+the distracting action of a faculty at once so vigorous, so crafty,
+and so pleasurable in its intense activity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 6369]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hence arose, it seems reasonable to believe, that charge of
+partisanship against Macaulay as a historian, on which much has
+been and probably much more will be said. He may not have
+possessed that scrupulously tender sense of obligation, that nice
+tact of exact justice, which is among the very rarest as well as
+the most precious of human virtues. But there never was a
+writer less capable of intentional unfairness. This during his lifetime
+was the belief of his friends, but was hardly admitted by
+opponents. His biographer has really lifted the question out of
+the range of controversy. He wrote for truth, but of course for
+truth such as he saw it; and his sight was colored from within.
+This color, once attached, was what in manufacture is called a
+mordant; it was a fast color: he could not distinguish between
+what his mind had received and what his mind had imparted.
+Hence, when he was wrong, he could not see that he was wrong;
+and of those calamities which are due to the intellect only, and
+not the heart, there can hardly be a greater....</p>
+
+<p>However true it may be that Macaulay was a far more consummate
+workman in the manner than in the matter of his
+works, we do not doubt that the works contain, in multitudes,
+passages of high emotion and ennobling sentiment, just awards of
+praise and blame, and solid expositions of principle, social, moral,
+and constitutional. They are pervaded by a generous love of
+liberty; and their atmosphere is pure and bracing, their general
+aim and basis morally sound. Of the qualifications of this eulogy
+we have spoken, and have yet to speak. But we can speak of
+the style of the works with little qualification. We do not indeed
+venture to assert that his style ought to be imitated. Yet this
+is not because it was vicious, but because it was individual and
+incommunicable. It was one of those gifts of which, when it
+had been conferred, Nature broke the mold. That it is the head
+of all literary styles we do not allege; but it is different from
+them all, and perhaps more different from them all than they
+are usually different from one another. We speak only of natural
+styles, of styles where the manner waits upon the matter, and not
+where an artificial structure has been reared either to hide or to
+make up for poverty of substance.</p>
+
+<p>It is paramount in the union of ease in movement with perspicuity
+of matter, of both with real splendor, and of all with
+immense rapidity and striking force. From any other pen, such
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 6370]</a></span>
+masses of ornament would be tawdry; with him they are only
+rich. As a model of art concealing art, the finest cabinet pictures
+of Holland are almost his only rivals. Like Pascal, he makes the
+heaviest subject light; like Burke, he embellishes the barrenest.
+When he walks over arid plains, the springs of milk and honey,
+as in a march of Bacchus, seem to rise beneath his tread. The
+repast he serves is always sumptuous, but it seems to create an
+appetite proportioned to its abundance; for who has ever heard
+of the reader that was cloyed with Macaulay? In none, perhaps,
+of our prose writers are lessons such as he gives of truth and
+beauty, of virtue and of freedom, so vividly associated with
+delight. Could some magician but do for the career of life what
+he has done for the arm-chair and the study, what a change
+would pass on the face (at least) of the world we live in, what
+an accession of recruits would there be to the professing followers
+of virtue!...</p>
+
+<p>The truth is that Macaulay was not only accustomed, like
+many more of us, to go out hobby-riding, but from the portentous
+vigor of the animal he mounted was liable more than most
+of us to be run away with. His merit is that he could keep his
+seat in the wildest steeple-chase; but as the object in view is
+arbitrarily chosen, so it is reached by cutting up the fields, spoiling
+the crops, and spoiling or breaking down the fences needful
+to secure for labor its profit, and to man at large the full enjoyment
+of the fruits of the earth. Such is the overpowering glow
+of color, such the fascination of the grouping in the first sketches
+which he draws, that when he has grown hot upon his work he
+seems to lose all sense of the restraints of fact and the laws of
+moderation; he vents the strangest paradoxes, sets up the most
+violent caricatures, and handles the false weight and measure as
+effectively as if he did it knowingly. A man so able and so
+upright is never indeed wholly wrong. He never for a moment
+consciously pursues anything but truth. But truth depends,
+above all, on proportion and relation. The preterhuman vividness
+with which Macaulay sees his object, absolutely casts a
+shadow upon what lies around; he loses his perspective; and
+imagination, impelled headlong by the strong consciousness of
+honesty in purpose, achieves the work of fraud. All things for
+him stand in violent contrast to one another. For the shadows,
+the gradations, the middle and transition touches, which make up
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 6371]</a></span>
+the bulk of human life, character, and action, he has neither eye
+nor taste. They are not taken account of in his practice, and
+they at length die away from the ranges of his vision.</p>
+
+<p>In Macaulay all history is scenic; and philosophy he scarcely
+seems to touch, except on the outer side, where it opens into
+action. Not only does he habitually present facts in forms of
+beauty, but the fashioning of the form predominates over, and is
+injurious to, the absolute and balanced presentation of the subject.
+Macaulay was a master in execution, rather than in what
+painting or music terms expression. He did not fetch from the
+depths, nor soar to the heights; but his power upon the surface
+was rare and marvelous, and it is upon the surface that an ordinary
+life is passed and that its imagery is found. He mingled,
+then, like Homer, the functions of the poet and the chronicler:
+but what Homer did was due to his time; what Macaulay did,
+to his temperament.</p>
+
+<p>The 'History' of Macaulay, whatever else it may be, is the
+work not of a journeyman but of a great artist, and a great
+artist who lavishly bestowed upon it all his powers. Such a work,
+once committed to the press, can hardly die. It is not because
+it has been translated into a crowd of languages, nor because it
+has been sold in hundreds of thousands, that we believe it will
+live; but because, however open it may be to criticism, it has in
+it the character of a true and very high work of art....</p>
+
+<p>Whether he will subsist as a standard and supreme authority
+is another question. Wherever and whenever read, he will be
+read with fascination, with delight, with wonder. And with copious
+instruction too; but also with copious reserve, with questioning
+scrutiny, with liberty to reject and with much exercise of
+that liberty. The contemporary mind may in rare cases be taken
+by storm; but posterity, never. The tribunal of the present is
+accessible to influence; that of the future is incorrupt. The coming
+generations will not give Macaulay up; but they will probably
+attach much less value than we have done to his <i>ipse dixit</i>.
+They will hardly accept from him his net solutions of literary,
+and still less of historic problems. Yet they will obtain, from his
+marked and telling points of view, great aid in solving them.
+We sometimes fancy that ere long there will be editions of his
+works in which his readers may be saved from pitfalls by brief,
+respectful, and judicious commentary; and that his great achievements
+may be at once commemorated and corrected by men of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 6372]</a></span>
+slower pace, of drier light, and of more tranquil, broad-set, and
+comprehensive judgment. For his works are in many respects
+among the prodigies of literature; in some, they have never been
+surpassed. As lights that have shone through the whole universe
+of letters, they have made their title to a place in the solid firmament
+of fame. But the tree is greater and better than its fruit;
+and greater and better yet than the works themselves are the
+lofty aims and conceptions, the large heart, the independent, manful
+mind, the pure and noble career, which in this Biography
+have disclosed to us the true figure of the man who wrote them.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 6373]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN" id="EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN"></a>EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN</h2>
+
+<h4>(1831-)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capa.png" width="90" height="90" alt="A" title="A" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">mong the men in the United States who through the agency
+of the press have molded intelligent public opinion, Edwin
+Lawrence Godkin deserves an honorable place. In the
+columns of the New York Nation and the New York Evening Post,
+he has for a generation given editorial utterance to his views upon
+economic, civic, political, and international questions, this work being
+supplemented by occasional incisive and scholarly articles in the best
+periodicals. His client&egrave;le has been drawn mainly from that powerful
+minority which is made up of the educated,
+thoughtful men and women of the country.
+To this high function Mr. Godkin has contributed
+exceptional gifts and qualifications;
+and that in its exercise he has been a force
+for good, is beyond dispute.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/godkin.png" width="170" height="212" alt="Edwin L. Godkin" title="Edwin L. Godkin" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Edwin L. Godkin</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Born in Moyne, Ireland, in 1831, he was
+educated at Queen's College, Belfast. Then
+came the more practical education derived
+from a familiarity with men and things, for
+in early manhood he began newspaper
+work as war correspondent, in Turkey and
+the Crimea, of the London Daily News.
+As correspondent of this paper he came to
+the United States and settled here, being
+admitted to the New York bar in 1858. But journalism was to be
+his life work; and in 1865 he became the editor of The Nation, a
+weekly,&mdash;succeeding the Round Table, but at once taking a much
+more important place as a journal of political and literary discussion,&mdash;and
+the next year its proprietor. In 1881 he also became one
+of the owners and the controlling editor of the New York Evening
+Post, a daily, and his contributions since then have appeared in both
+papers, which bear to each other the relation of a daily and weekly
+edition. Thus he has been in active journalistic service for more
+than thirty years.</p>
+
+<p>From this slight biographical outline it may be seen that Mr.
+Godkin brought to the pursuit of his profession and to the study
+of American institutions some valuable qualifications. A college-bred
+man of wide experience, an adoptive American able to judge by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 6374]</a></span>
+comparative method, a careful student of the philosophy of government,
+from Aristotle to Sir Henry Maine, his views combine in an
+unusual degree the practical and the theoretical. No doubt he has
+in his writings what to some will seem the defect of his quality.
+There is in him a certain haughtiness of temper, and what seems
+like impatient contempt for the opponent in argument, which, conjoined
+with a notable power of invective and satire in dealing with
+what he deems to be fallacious, are likely to arouse opposition.
+Hence the feeling in some quarters that Mr. Godkin is not at heart
+an American, but a captious critic, with sympathies ill suited to a
+democratic government.</p>
+
+<p>This opinion is not justified by a fair examination of his writings.
+He has on the contrary and in the true sense proved himself a true
+American. He has spoken wise words upon many of the social and
+political problems of our day. He has defended democracy from the
+charge of failure, pointing out that here in the United States social
+defects, wrongly ascribed by foreign critics to the form of government,
+have been incidental to the settling of a vast new country.
+He has stated with clearness and cogency the inadvisability of allowing
+the government paternal power in finance and tariff legislation.
+He has preached the difference between cheap jingoism or political
+partisanship, and the enlightened Americanism which puts its finger
+upon weak points, criticizing in order to correct and purify. Mr.
+Godkin, in this, has been a consistent worker in a cause of which
+Lowell was a noble prophet. And in regard of literary excellence,
+his editorial writing is often a model of lucid, sinewy English style;
+while his more deliberated essays have been admirable for calm dignity,
+polish, and organic exposition, with an air of good breeding
+over it all. The influence of such a man, both as writer and thinker,
+especially in a land like the United States, has been most salutary.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_DUTY_OF_CRITICISM_IN_A_DEMOCRACY" id="THE_DUTY_OF_CRITICISM_IN_A_DEMOCRACY"></a>THE DUTY OF CRITICISM IN A DEMOCRACY</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Problems of Modern Democracy.' Copyright 1896, by Charles Scribner's
+Sons, New York</h4>
+
+<p>No intelligent man can or ought to ignore the part which
+hope of better things plays in our present social system. It
+has largely, among the working classes, taken the place of
+religious belief. They have brought their heaven down to earth,
+and are literally looking forward to a sort of New Jerusalem, in
+which all comforts and many of the luxuries of life will be
+within easy reach of all. The great success of Utopian works<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 6375]</a></span>
+like Bellamy's shows the hold which these ideas have taken of
+the popular mind. The world has to have a religion of some
+kind, and the hope of better food and clothing, more leisure, and
+a greater variety of amusements, has become the religion of the
+working classes. Hope makes them peaceful, industrious, and
+resigned under present suffering. A Frenchman saw a ragged
+pauper spend his last few cents on a lottery ticket, and asked
+him how he could commit such a folly. "In order to have something
+to hope for," he said. And from this point of view the
+outlay was undoubtedly excusable. It is literally hope which
+makes the world go round, and one of the hardest things an
+educated man who opens his mouth about public affairs has to
+do, is to say one word or anything to dampen or destroy it. Yet
+his highest duty is to speak the truth.</p>
+
+<p>Luckily, there is one truth which can always be spoken without
+offense, and that is that on the whole the race advances
+through the increase of intelligence and the improvement of character,
+and has not advanced in any other way. The great amelioration
+in the condition of the working classes in Europe within
+this century, including the increasing power of the trades-unions,
+is the result not of any increase of benevolence in the upper
+classes, but of the growth of knowledge and self-reliance and
+foresight among the working classes themselves. The changes in
+legislation which have improved their condition are changes which
+they have demanded. When a workingman becomes a capitalist,
+and raises himself in any way above his early condition, it is
+rarely the result of miracle or accident. It is due to his superior
+intelligence and thrift. Nothing, on the whole, can be more
+delusive than official and other inquiries into the labor problem
+through commissions and legislative committees. They all assume
+that there is some secret in the relations of labor and capital
+which can be found out by taking testimony. But they never
+find anything out. Their reports during the last fifty years would
+make a small library, but they never tell us anything new. They
+are meant to pacify and amuse the laborer, and they do so; but
+to their constant failure to do anything more we owe some of the
+Socialist movement. The Socialists believe this failure due to
+want of will, and that Karl Marx has discovered the great truth
+of the situation, which is, that labor is entitled to the whole
+product. The great law which Nature seems to have prescribed
+for the government of the world, and the only law of human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 6376]</a></span>
+society which we are able to extract from history, is that the
+more intelligent and thoughtful of the race shall inherit the earth
+and have the best time, and that all others shall find life on the
+whole dull and unprofitable. Socialism is an attempt to contravene
+this law and insure a good time to everybody, independently
+of character and talents; but Nature will see that she is not
+frustrated or brought to naught, and I do not think educated
+men should ever cease to call attention to this fact; that is, ever
+cease to preach hopefulness, not to everybody, but to good people.
+This is no bar to benevolence to bad people or any people; but
+our first duty is loyalty to the great qualities of our kind, to the
+great human virtues which raise the civilized man above the
+savage.</p>
+
+<p>There is probably no government in the world to-day as stable
+as that of the United States. The chief advantage of democratic
+government is, in a country like this, the enormous force it can
+command on an emergency. By "emergency" I mean the suppression
+of an insurrection or the conduct of a foreign war. But
+it is not equally strong in the ordinary work of administration.
+A good many governments, by far inferior to it in strength, fill
+the offices, collect the taxes, administer justice, and do the work
+of legislation with much greater efficiency. One cause of this
+inefficiency is that the popular standard in such matters is low,
+and that it resents dissatisfaction as an assumption of superiority.
+When a man says these and those things ought not to be, his
+neighbors, who find no fault with them, naturally accuse him of
+giving himself airs. It seems as if he thought he knew more
+than they did, and was trying to impose his plans on them. The
+consequence is that in a land of pure equality, as this is, critics
+are always an unpopular class, and criticism is in some sense an
+odious work. The only condemnation passed on the governmental
+acts or systems is apt to come from the opposite party in the
+form of what is called "arraignment," which generally consists in
+wholesale abuse of the party in power, treating all their acts,
+small or great, as due to folly or depravity, and all their public
+men as either fools or knaves. Of course this makes but small
+impression on the public mind. It is taken to indicate not so
+much a desire to improve the public service as to get hold of the
+offices, and has as a general rule but little effect. Parties lose
+their hold on power through some conspicuously obnoxious acts or
+failures; never, or very rarely, through the judgments passed on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 6377]</a></span>
+them by hostile writers or orators. And yet nothing is more
+necessary to successful government than abundant criticism from
+sources not open to the suspicion of particular interest. There is
+nothing which bad governments so much dislike and resent as
+criticism, and have in past ages taken so much pains to put
+down. In fact, a history of the civil liberty would consist
+largely of an account of the resistance to criticism on the part
+of rulers. One of the first acts of a successful tyranny or despotism
+is always the silencing of the press or the establishment
+of a censorship.</p>
+
+<p>Popular objection to criticism is however senseless, because
+it is through criticism&mdash;that is, through discrimination between
+two things, customs, or courses&mdash;that the race has managed to
+come out of the woods and lead a civilized life. The first man
+who objected to the general nakedness, and advised his fellows to
+put on clothes, was the first critic. Criticism of a high tariff
+recommends a low tariff; criticism of monarchy recommends a
+republic; criticism of vice recommends virtue. In fact, almost
+every act of life, in the practice of a profession or the conduct
+of a business, condemns one course and suggests another. The
+word means <i>judging</i>, and judgment is the highest of the human
+faculties, the one which most distinguishes us from the animals.</p>
+
+<p>There is probably nothing from which the public service of
+the country suffers more to-day than the silence of its educated
+class; that is, the small amount of criticism which comes
+from the disinterested and competent sources. It is a very rare
+thing for an educated man to say anything publicly about the
+questions of the day. He is absorbed in science, or art, or literature,
+in the practice of his profession, or in the conduct of his
+business; and if he has any interest at all in public affairs, it is
+a languid one. He is silent because he does not much care, or
+because he does not wish to embarrass the administration or
+"hurt the party," or because he does not feel that anything he
+could say would make much difference. So that on the whole,
+it is very rarely that the instructed opinion of the country is ever
+heard on any subject. The report of the Bar Association on the
+nomination of Maynard in New York was a remarkable exception
+to this rule. Some improvement in this direction has been
+made by the appearance of the set of people known as the "Mugwumps,"
+who are, in the main, men of cultivation. They have
+been defined in various ways. They are known to the masses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 6378]</a></span>
+mainly as "kickers"; that is, dissatisfied, querulous people, who
+complain of everybody and cannot submit to party discipline. But
+they are the only critics who do not criticize in the interest of
+party, but simply in that of good government. They are a kind
+of personage whom the bulk of the voters know nothing about
+and find it difficult to understand, and consequently load with
+ridicule and abuse. But their movement, though its visible recognizable
+effects on elections may be small, has done inestimable
+service in slackening the bonds of party discipline, in making
+the expression of open dissent from party programmes respectable
+and common, and in increasing the unreliable vote in large
+States like New York. It is of the last importance that this unreliable
+vote&mdash;that is, the vote which party leaders cannot count
+on with certainty&mdash;should be large in such States. The mere
+fear of it prevents a great many excesses.</p>
+
+<p>But in criticism one always has hard work in steering a
+straight course between optimism and pessimism. These are the
+Scylla and Charybdis of the critic's career. Almost every man
+who thinks or speaks about public affairs is either an optimist or
+a pessimist; which he is, depends a good deal on temperament,
+but often on character. The political jobber or corruptionist is
+almost always an optimist. So is the prosperous business man.
+So is nearly every politician, because the optimist is nearly always
+the more popular of the two. As a general rule, people
+like cheerful men and the promise of good times. The kill-joy
+and bearer of bad news has always been an odious character.
+But for the cultivated man there is no virtue in either optimism
+or pessimism. Some people think it a duty to be optimistic, and
+for some people it may be a duty; but one of the great uses of
+education is to teach us to be neither one nor the other. In the
+management of our personal affairs, we try to be neither one
+nor the other. In business, a persistent and uproarious optimist
+would certainly have poor credit. And why? Because in business
+the trustworthy man, as everybody knows, is the man who
+sees things as they are: and to see things as they are, without
+glamor or illusion, is the first condition of worldly success. It
+is absolutely essential in war, in finance, in law, in every field
+of human activity in which the future has to be thought of and
+provided for. It is just as essential in politics. The only reason
+why it is not thought as essential in politics is, the punishment
+for failure or neglect comes in politics more slowly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 6379]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The pessimist has generally a bad name, but there is a good
+deal to be said for him. To take a recent illustration, the man
+who took pessimistic views of the silver movement was for nearly
+twenty years under a cloud. This gloomy anticipation of 1873
+was not realized until 1893. For a thousand years after Marcus
+Aurelius, the pessimist, if I may use the expression, was "cock
+of the walk." He certainly has no reason to be ashamed of his
+r&ocirc;le in the Eastern world for a thousand years after the Mohammedan
+Hegira. In Italy and Spain he has not needed to hang
+his head since the Renaissance. In fact, if we take various nations
+and long reaches of time, we shall find that the gloomy
+man has been nearly as often justified by the course of events as
+the cheerful one. Neither of them has any special claim to a
+hearing on public affairs. A persistent optimist, although he may
+be a most agreeable man in family life, is likely, in business or
+politics, to be just as foolish and unbearable as a persistent pessimist.
+He is as much out of harmony with the order of nature.
+The universe is not governed on optimistic any more than on
+pessimistic principles. The best and wisest of men make their
+mistakes and have their share of sorrow and sickness and losses.
+So also the most happily situated nations must suffer from internal
+discord, the blunders of statesmen, and the madness of the
+people. What Cato said in the Senate of the conditions of success,
+"vigilando, agendo, bene consulendo, prospere omnia cedunt,"
+is as true to-day as it was two thousand years ago. We must
+remember that though the optimist may be the pleasantest man to
+have about us, he is the least likely to take precautions; that is,
+the least likely to watch and work for success. We owe a great
+deal of our slovenly legislation to his presence in large numbers
+in Congress and the legislatures. The great suffering through
+which we are now passing, in consequence of the persistence
+in our silver purchases, is the direct result of unreasoning optimism.
+Its promoters disregarded the warnings of economists and
+financiers because they believed that somehow, they did not
+know how, the thing would come out right in the end. The
+silver collapse, together with the Civil War over slavery, are
+striking illustrations to occur in one century, of the fact that
+if things come out right in the end, it is often after periods of
+great suffering and disaster. Could people have foreseen how the
+slavery controversy would end, what frantic efforts would have
+been made for peaceful abolition! Could people have foreseen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 6380]</a></span>
+the panic of last year, with its wide-spread disaster, what haste
+would have been made to stop the silver purchases! And yet
+the experience of mankind afforded abundant reason for anticipating
+both results.</p>
+
+<p>This leads me to say that the reason why educated men should
+try and keep a fair mental balance between both pessimism and
+optimism, is that there has come over the world in the last
+twenty-five or thirty years a very great change of opinion touching
+the relations of the government to the community. When
+Europe settled down to peaceful work after the great wars of the
+French Revolution, it was possessed with the idea that the freedom
+of the individual was all that was needed for public prosperity
+and private happiness. The old government interference
+with people's movements and doings was supposed to be the
+reason why nations had not been happy in the past. This became
+the creed, in this country, of the Democratic party, which came
+into existence after the foundation of the federal government.
+At the same time there grew up here the popular idea of the
+American character, in which individualism was the most marked
+trait. If you are not familiar with it in your own time, you may
+remember it in the literature of the earlier half of the century.
+The typical American was always the architect of his own fortunes.
+He sailed the seas and penetrated the forest, and built
+cities and lynched the horse thieves, and fought the Indians and
+dug the mines, without anybody's help or support. He had even
+an ill-concealed contempt for regular troops, as men under control
+and discipline. He scorned government for any other purposes
+than security and the administration of justice. This was
+the kind of American that Tocqueville found here in 1833. He
+says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The European often sees in the public functionaries simply force;
+the American sees nothing but law. One may then say that in
+America a man never obeys a man, or anything but justice and law.
+Consequently he has formed of himself an opinion which is often
+exaggerated, but is always salutary. He trusts without fear to his
+own strength, which appears to him equal to anything. A private
+individual conceives some sort of enterprise. Even if this enterprise
+have some sort of connection with the public welfare, it never occurs
+to him to address himself to the government in order to obtain its
+aid. He makes his plan known, offers to carry it out, calls other
+individuals to his aid, and struggles with all his might against any
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 6381]</a></span>obstacles there may be in his way. Often, without doubt, he succeeds
+less well than the State would in his place; but in the long
+run the general result of individual enterprises far surpasses anything
+the government could do."</p></div>
+
+<p>Now there is no doubt that if this type of character has not
+passed away, it has been greatly modified; and it has been modified
+by two agencies&mdash;the "labor problem," as it is called, and
+legislative protection to native industry. I am not going to make
+an argument about the value of this protection in promoting
+native industry, or about its value from the industrial point of
+view. We may or we may not owe to it the individual progress
+and prosperity of the United States. About that I do not propose
+to say anything. What I want to say is that the doctrine
+that it is a function of government, not simply to foster industry
+in general, but to consider the case of every particular industry
+and give it the protection that it needs, could not be
+preached and practiced for thirty years in a community like this,
+without modifying the old American conception of the relation
+of the government to the individual. It makes the government,
+in a certain sense, a partner in every industrial enterprise, and
+makes every Presidential election an affair of the pocket to every
+miner and manufacturer and to his men; for the men have for
+fully thirty years been told that the amount of their wages would
+depend, to a certain extent at least, on the way the election
+went. The notion that the government owes assistance to individuals
+in carrying on business and making a livelihood has
+in fact, largely through the tariff discussions, permeated a very
+large class of the community, and has materially changed what I
+may call the American outlook. It has greatly reinforced among
+the foreign-born population the socialistic ideas which many
+bring here with them, of the powers and duties of the State
+toward labor; for it is preached vehemently by the employing
+class.</p>
+
+<p>What makes this look the more serious is, that our political
+and social manners are not adapted to it. In Europe, the State
+is possessed of an administrative machine which has a finish,
+efficacy, and permanence unknown here. Tocqueville comments
+on its absence among us; and it is, as all the advocates of civil-service
+reform know, very difficult to supply. All the agencies
+of the government suffer from the imposition on them of what
+I may call non-American duties. For instance, a custom-house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 6382]</a></span>
+organized as a political machine was never intended to collect the
+enormous sum of duties which must pass through its hands under
+our tariff. A post-office whose master has to be changed every
+four years to "placate" Tammany, or the anti-Snappers, or any
+other body of politicians, was never intended to handle the huge
+mass which American mails have now become. One of the
+greatest objections to the income tax is the prying into people's
+affairs which it involves. No man likes to tell what his income
+is to every stranger, much less to a politician, which our collectors
+are sure to be. Secrecy on the part of the collector is in
+fact essential to reconcile people to it in England or Germany,
+where it is firmly established; but our collectors sell their lists to
+the newspapers in order to make the contributors pay up.</p>
+
+<p>In all these things, we are trying to meet the burdens and
+responsibilities of much older societies with the machinery of a
+much earlier and simpler state of things. It is high time to halt
+in this progress until our administrative system has been brought
+up to the level even of our present requirements. It is quite
+true that, with our system of State and federal constitutions
+laying prohibitions on the Legislature and Congress, any great
+extension of the sphere of government in our time seems very
+unlikely. Yet the assumption by Congress, with the support of
+the Supreme Court, of the power to issue paper money in time
+of peace, the power to make prolonged purchases of a commodity
+like silver, the power to impose an income tax, to execute
+great public works, and to protect native industry, are powers
+large enough to effect a great change in the constitution of society
+and in the distribution of wealth, such as, it is safe to say,
+in the present state of human culture, no government ought to
+have and exercise.</p>
+
+<p>One hears every day from educated people some addition to
+the number of things which "governments" ought to do, but for
+which any government we have at present is totally unfit. One
+listens to them with amazement, when looking at the material
+of which our government is composed,&mdash;for the matter of that,
+of which all governments are composed; for I suppose there is no
+question that all legislative bodies in the world have in twenty
+years run down in quality. The parliamentary system is apparently
+failing to meet the demands of modern democratic society,
+and is falling into some disrepute; but it would seem as if there
+was at present just as little chance of a substitute of any kind as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 6383]</a></span>
+of the dethronement of universal suffrage. It will probably last
+indefinitely, and be as good or as bad as its constituents make
+it. But this probable extension of the powers and functions of
+government makes more necessary than ever a free expression
+of opinion, and especially of educated opinion. We may rail at
+"mere talk" as much as we please, but the probability is that
+the affairs of nations and of men will be more and more regulated
+by talk. The amount of talk which is now expended on
+all subjects of human interest&mdash;and in "talk" I include contributions
+to periodical literature&mdash;is something of which no previous
+age has had the smallest conception. Of course it varies
+infinitely in quality. A very large proportion of it does no good
+beyond relieving the feelings of the talker. Political philosophers
+maintain, and with good reason, that one of its greatest uses is
+keeping down discontent under popular government. It is undoubtedly
+true that it is an immense relief to a man with a
+grievance to express his feelings about it in words, even if he
+knows that his words will have no immediate effect. Self-love is
+apt to prevent most men from thinking that anything they say
+with passion or earnestness will utterly and finally fail. But still
+it is safe to suppose that one half of the talk of the world on
+subjects of general interest is waste. But the other half certainly
+tells. We know this from the change in ideas from generation
+to generation. We see that opinions which at one time
+everybody held became absurd in the course of half a century&mdash;opinions
+about religion and morals and manners and government.
+Nearly every man of my age can recall old opinions of his own
+on subjects of general interest, which he once thought highly
+respectable, and which he is now almost ashamed of having ever
+held. He does not remember when he changed them, or why,
+but somehow they have passed away from him.</p>
+
+<p>In communities these changes are often very striking. The
+transformation, for instance, of the England of Cromwell into the
+England of Queen Anne, or of the New England of Cotton
+Mather into the New England of Theodore Parker and Emerson,
+was very extraordinary, but it would be very difficult to say in
+detail what brought it about or when it began. Lecky has some
+curious observations in his "History of Rationalism" on these
+silent changes in new beliefs, apropos of the disappearance of the
+belief in witchcraft. Nobody could say what had swept it away;
+but it appeared that in a certain year people were ready to burn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 6384]</a></span>
+old women as witches, and a few years later were ready to laugh
+at or pity any one who thought old women could be witches.
+"At one period," says he, "we find every one disposed to believe
+in witches; at a later period we find this predisposition has
+silently passed away." The belief in witchcraft may perhaps be
+considered a somewhat violent illustration, like the change in
+public opinion about slavery in this country. But there can be
+no doubt that it is talk&mdash;somebody's, anybody's, everybody's talk&mdash;by
+which these changes are wrought, by which each generation
+comes to feel and think differently from its predecessor.</p>
+
+<p>No one ever talks freely about anything without contributing
+something, let it be ever so little, to the unseen forces which carry
+the race on to its final destiny. Even if he does not make a positive
+impression, he counteracts or modifies some other impression,
+or sets in motion some train of ideas in some one else, which
+helps to change the face of the world. So I shall, in disregard
+of the great laudation of silence which filled the earth in the
+days of Carlyle, say that one of the functions of an educated man
+is to talk; and of course he should try to talk wisely.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 6385]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GOETHE1" id="GOETHE1"></a>
+<span class="caption">GOETHE</span>
+<img src="images/goethe.jpg" width="100%" alt="GOETHE." title="GOETHE." />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="GOETHE" id="GOETHE"></a>GOETHE</h2>
+
+<h4>(1749-1832)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY EDWARD DOWDEN</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capj.png" width="90" height="91" alt="J" title="J" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">ohann Wolfgang Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main
+on August 28th, 1749, and died at Weimar on March 22d,
+1832. His great life, extending over upwards of fourscore
+years, makes him a man of the eighteenth century and also of the nineteenth.
+He belongs not only to German but to European literature.
+And in the history of European literature his position is that of successor
+to Voltaire and Rousseau. Humanity, as Voltaire said, had lost
+its title-deeds, and the task of the eighteenth century was to recover
+them. Under all Voltaire's zeal for destruction in matters of religious
+belief lay a positive faith and a creative sentiment,&mdash;a faith in human
+intellect and the sentiment of social justice. What indefatigable toil!
+what indefatigable play! Surely it was not all to establish a negation.
+Voltaire poured a gay yet bitter <i>&eacute;lan</i> into the intellectual movement
+of his time. Yet amid his various efforts for humanity he
+wanted love; he wanted reverence. And although a positive tendency
+underlies his achievements, we are warranted in repeating the
+common sentence, that upon the whole he destroyed more than he
+built up.</p>
+
+<p>Voltaire fought to enfranchise the understanding. Rousseau
+dreamed, brooded, suffered, to emancipate the heart. A wave of passion,
+or at least of sentiment, swept over Europe with the 'Nouvelle
+H&eacute;loise,' the '&Eacute;mile,' the 'Confessions.' It was Rousseau, exclaims
+Byron, who "threw enchantment over passion," who "knew how to
+make madness beautiful." Such an emancipation of the heart was felt,
+in the eighteenth century, to be a blessed deliverance from the
+material interests and the eager yet too arid speculation of the age.
+But Byron in that same passage of 'Childe Harold' names Rousseau
+"the self-torturing sophist." And a sophist Rousseau was. His intellect
+fed upon fictions, and dangerous fictions,&mdash;fictions respecting
+nature, respecting the individual man, respecting human society.
+Therefore his intellect failed to illuminate, clarify, tranquilize his
+heart. His emotions were turbid, restless, and lacking in sanity.</p>
+
+<p>Here then were Goethe's two great predecessors: one a most vivacious
+intelligence, the other a brooding sensibility; one aiming at an
+emancipation of the understanding, but deficient in reverence and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 6386]</a></span>
+love; the other aiming at an emancipation of the affections, but deficient
+in sanity of thought. In what relation stood Goethe to these
+great forces of the eighteenth century?</p>
+
+<p>In his old age Goethe, speaking of Voltaire, uses the words "a
+universal source of light." But as a young man he was repelled by
+"the factious dishonesty of Voltaire, and his perversion of so many
+worthy subjects." "He would never have done," says Goethe, "with
+degrading religion and the sacred books, for the sake of injuring
+priestcraft, as they called it." Goethe, indeed, did not deny a use to
+the spirit of negation. Mephistopheles lives and works. Yet he lives
+and works as the unwilling servant of the Lord, and the service he
+renders is to provoke men from indolence to activity.</p>
+
+<p>Into the influence of Rousseau, on the contrary, and into the general
+movement of feeling to which Rousseau belonged, Goethe in his
+youth was caught, almost inevitably; and he abandoned himself to it
+for a time, it might seem without restraint.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Goethe differed from Rousseau as profoundly as he differed
+from Voltaire. Rousseau's undisciplined sensibility, morbidly excited
+by the harshness or imagined harshness of his fellows, by bodily torment,
+by broodings in solitude, became at last one quivering mass of
+disease. "No tragedy had ever a fifth act so squalid." What a contrast
+to the closing scenes of Goethe's life in that house of his, like
+a modest temple of the Muses, listening to Plutarch read aloud by
+his daughter-in-law, or serenely active, "ohne Hast aber ohne Rast"
+(without haste, but without rest), in widening his sympathies with
+men or enlarging his knowledge of nature.</p>
+
+<p>How was this? Why did the ways part so widely for Rousseau
+and for Goethe?</p>
+
+<p>The young creator of 'Werther' may seem to have started on his
+career as a German Rousseau. In reality, 'Werther' expressed only
+a fragment of Goethe's total self. A reserve force of will and an intellect
+growing daily in clearness and in energy would not permit
+him to end as Rousseau ended. In 'G&ouml;tz von Berlichingen' there
+goes up a cry for freedom; it presents the more masculine side of
+that spirit of revolt from the bonds of the eighteenth century, that
+"return to nature," which is presented in its more feminine aspects
+by 'Werther.' But by degrees it became evident to Goethe that the
+only true ideal of freedom is a liberation not of the passions, not of
+the intellect, but of the whole man; that this involves a conciliation
+of all the powers and faculties within us; and that such a conciliation
+can be effected only by degrees, and by steadfast toil.</p>
+
+<p>And so we find him willing during ten years at Weimar to undertake
+work which might appear to be fatal to the development of his
+genius. To reform army administration, make good roads, work the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 6387]</a></span>
+mines with energetic intelligence, restore the finances to order,&mdash;was
+this fit employment for one born to be a poet? Except a few lyrics
+and the prose 'Iphigenie,' these years produced no literary work of
+importance; yet Goethe himself speaks of them as his "zweite Schriftstellerepoche."&mdash;his
+second epoch as a writer. They were needful to
+make him a master in the art of life, needful to put him into possession
+of all his powers. Men of genius are quick growers; but men of
+the highest genius, which includes the wisdom of human life, are not
+speedily ripe. Goethe had entered literature early; he had stormed
+the avenues. Now at six-and-twenty he was a chief figure in German,
+even in European, literature; and from twenty-six to thirty-seven
+he published, we may say nothing. But though he ceased to
+astonish the world, he was well employed in widening the basis of
+his existence; in organizing his faculties; in conciliating passions, intellect,
+and will; in applying his mind to the real world; in endeavoring
+to comprehend it aright; in testing and training his powers by
+practical activity.</p>
+
+<p>A time came when he felt that his will and skill were mature;
+that he was no longer an apprentice in the art of living, but a master
+craftsman. Tasks that had grown irksome and were felt to be a distraction
+from higher duties, he now abandoned. Goethe fled for a
+time to Italy, there to receive his degree in the high school of life,
+and to start upon a course of more advanced studies. Thenceforward
+until his closing days the record is one of almost uninterrupted labor
+in his proper fields of literature, art, and science. "In Rome," he
+wrote, "I have for the first time found myself, for the first time come
+into harmony with myself, and grown happy and rational." He had
+found himself, because his passions and his intellect now co-operated;
+his pursuit of truth had all the ardor of a first love; his pursuit of
+beauty was not a fantastic chase, but was subject to rational law; and
+his effort after truth and his effort after beauty were alike supported
+by an adult will.</p>
+
+<p>His task, regarded as a whole, was to do over again the work
+of the Renascence. But whereas the Renascence had been a large
+national or European movement, advancing towards its ends partly
+through popular passions and a new enthusiasm, the work which
+Goethe accomplished was more an affair of intelligence, criticism,
+conscious self-direction. It was less of a flood sweeping away old
+dikes and dams, and more of a dawn quietly and gradually drawing
+back the borders of darkness and widening the skirts of light. A
+completely developed human being, for the uses of the world,&mdash;this
+was the ideal in which Goethe's thoughts centred, and towards which
+his most important writings constantly tend. A completely developed
+State or commonwealth should follow, as an ideal arising out of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 6388]</a></span>
+needs and demands of a complete individual. Goethe knew that
+growth comes not by self-observation and self-analysis, but by exercise.
+Therefore he turned himself and would turn his disciples to
+action, to the objective world; and in order that this action may be
+profitable, it must be definite and within a limited sphere. He
+preaches self-renunciation; but the self-renunciation he commends is
+not self-mortification; it is the active self-abandonment of devotion to
+our appropriate work. Such is the teaching of 'Wilhelm Meister':
+it traces the progress of a youth far from extraordinary, yet having
+within him the capacity for growth, progress through a thousand
+errors and illusions, from splendid dreams to modest reality. Life is
+discovered by Wilhelm to be a difficult piece of scholarship. The
+cry for freedom in 'G&ouml;tz,' the limitless sigh of passion heard in
+'Werther,' are heard no more. If freedom is to be attained, it can
+only be through obedience; if we are to "return to nature," it cannot
+be in Rousseau's way but through a wise art of living, an art not at
+odds with nature, but its complement:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"This is an art which does mend nature&mdash;but<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The art itself is nature."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>If we ask,&mdash;for this, after all, is the capital question of criticism,&mdash;What
+has Goethe done to make us better? the answer is: He has
+made each of us aspire and endeavor to be no fragment of manhood,
+but a man; he has taught us that to squander ourselves in vain
+desires is the road to spiritual poverty; that to discover our appropriate
+work, and to embody our passion in such work, is the way to
+true wealth; that such passion and such toil must be not servile, but
+glad and free; that the use of our intelligence is not chiefly to
+destroy, but to guide our activity in construction; and that in doing
+our best work we incorporate ourselves in the best possible way in
+the life of our fellows. Such lessons may seem obvious; but they
+had not been taught by Goethe's great predecessors, Voltaire and
+Rousseau. Goethe, unlike Voltaire, inculcates reverence and love;
+unlike Rousseau, he teaches us to see objects clearly as they are, he
+trains us to sanity. And Europe needed sanity in the days of Revolution
+and in the days which followed of Reaction.</p>
+
+<p>Sanity for the imagination Goethe found in classical art. The
+young leader of the Romantic revival in Germany resigned his
+leadership; he seemed to his contemporaries to have lost the fire
+and impulse of his youth; his work was found cold and formal. A
+great change had indeed taken place within him; but his ardor had
+only grown steadier and stronger, extending now to every part of his
+complex nature. The change was a transition from what is merely
+inward and personal to what is outward and general. Goethe cared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 6389]</a></span>
+less than formerly to fling out his private passions, and cared more
+to comprehend the world and human life and to interpret these
+through art. He did not go into bondage under the authority of the
+ancients; but he found their methods right, and he endeavored to
+work as they had worked. For a time the reaction carried him too
+far: in seeking for what is general, he sometimes passed on to what
+is abstract, and so was forced into the error of offering symbols to
+represent these abstractions, instead of bodying forth his ideas in
+imaginative creations. But in the noble drama of 'Iphigenie,' in the
+epic-idyll of 'Hermann und Dorothea,' and in many of the ballads
+written during his period of close companionship with Schiller, we
+have examples of art at once modern in sentiment and classical in
+method.</p>
+
+<p>Goethe's faith in the methods of classical art never passed away,
+but his narrow exclusiveness yielded. He became, with certain guiding
+principles which served as a control, a great eclectic, appropriating
+to his own uses whatever he perceived to be excellent. As in
+'Hermann und Dorothea' he unites the influences of Greek art with
+true German feeling, so in his collection of short lyrics, the 'West-&Ouml;stlicher
+Divan' (West-Eastern Divan), he brings together the genius
+of the Orient and that of the Western world, and sheds over both
+the spiritual illumination of the wisdom of his elder years. Gradually
+his creative powers waned, but he was still interested in all&mdash;except
+perhaps politics&mdash;that can concern the mind; he was still the
+greatest of critics, entering with his intelligence into everything and
+understanding everything, as nearly universal in his sympathies as a
+human mind can be. The Goethe of these elder years is seen to
+most advantage in the 'Conversations with Eckermann.'</p>
+
+<p>The most invulnerable of Goethe's writings are his lyrical poems;
+against the best of these, criticism can allege nothing. They need no
+interpreter. But the reader who studies them in chronological order
+will observe that as time went on, the lyric which is a spontaneous
+jet of feeling is replaced by the lyric in which there is constructive
+art and considerate evolution. In the poems of the 'West-&Ouml;stlicher
+Divan' Goethe returns to the lyric of spontaneity, but their inspiration
+is rather that of a gracious wisdom, at once serious and playful,
+than of passion.</p>
+
+<p>His period of romance and sentiment is best represented by 'The
+Sorrows of Werther.' His adult wisdom of life is found most abundantly
+in 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' The world has long
+since agreed that if Goethe is to be represented by a single work, it
+shall be by 'Faust.' And even those who perceive that 'Faust' is
+best understood by being taken along with Goethe's other writings&mdash;his
+early 'Prometheus,' his autobiography, his travels in Italy, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 6390]</a></span>
+classical dramas, his scientific studies, his work as a critic, his vast
+correspondence, his conversations in old age&mdash;cannot quarrel with
+the judgment of the world.</p>
+
+<p>'Faust,' if we include under that name the First and the Second
+Parts, is the work of Goethe's whole life. Begun and even far advanced
+in early manhood, it was taken up again in his midmost
+years, and was completed with a faltering hand in the closing season
+of his old age. What it loses in unity, or at least in harmonious
+development as a piece of art, it gains in autobiographical interest.
+All his works, Goethe said, constituted a great confession. More than
+any other of his writings, 'Faust' is the confession of his life.</p>
+
+<p>There are two ways in which a reader may deal with 'Faust.'
+He may choose for his own delight a fragment, detach it and disregard
+the rest; he may view this fragment, if he pleases, as a whole,
+as a rounded work of art. Such a reader will refuse to pass beyond
+the First Part of the vast encyclop&aelig;dic poem. To do this is legitimate.
+The earliest form in which we possess the drama, that of the
+transcript made by Fr&auml;ulein von G&ouml;chhausen, is a tragedy which
+might be named 'The Tragedy of Margaret.' Possibilities of further
+development lay in the subject, were indeed required by the subject,
+and Goethe had probably already conceived certain of them; yet the
+stadium in the progress of Faust's history included in 'The Tragedy
+of Margaret' had a unity in itself. But a reader may approach
+'Faust' otherwise; he may view it as expressing the complete mind
+of Goethe on some of the deepest problems of human life. Viewing
+it thus, he must accept the whole work as Goethe has given it; he
+must hold in abeyance, at least for a time, his own particular likings
+and dislikes. While keeping his mind open to all the poetry of Faust,
+he will soon discover that here is something more than a poem. It
+may be unfortunate for the work of art that it belongs, certainly in
+its execution, possibly even in the growth of its conception, to far
+sundered periods of its author's career, when his feelings respecting
+art were different, when his capacity for rendering his ideas was now
+more and now less adequate. Such a reader, however, would part
+with nothing: in what is admirable he finds the master's hand; in
+what is feeble he discovers the same hand, but faltering, and pathetic
+in its infirmity. He is interested in 'Faust' not solely or chiefly as
+'The Tragedy of Margaret': he finds in it the intellect, the character,
+the life of Goethe; it is a repository of the deepest thoughts and
+feelings concerning human existence of a wise seer, a repository in
+which he laid by those thoughts and feelings during sixty years of
+his mortal wayfaring.</p>
+
+<p>From early manhood to extreme old age 'Faust' was with Goethe,
+receiving now and again, in Frankfort, in Weimar, in Rome, some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 6391]</a></span>
+new accession. We can distinguish the strata or formations of youth,
+of manhood, and of the closing years. We recognize by their diversities
+of style those parts which were written when creation was
+swift and almost involuntary, a passion and a joy, and those parts
+through which Goethe labored at an old man's pace, accomplishing
+to-day a hand's-breadth, to-morrow perhaps less, and binding blank
+pages into his manuscript, that the sight of the gaps might irritate
+him to produce. What unity can such a work possess, except that
+which comes from the fact that it all proceeded from a single mind,
+and that some main threads of thought&mdash;for it would be rash to
+speak of a ground idea&mdash;run through the several parts and bind
+them together? 'Faust' has not the unity of a lake whose circuit
+the eye can contemplate, a crystal set among the hills. Its unity is
+that of a river, rising far away in mountain solitudes, winding below
+many a mirrored cliff, passing the habitations of men, temple and
+mart, fields of rural toil and fields of war, reaching it may be dull
+levels, and forgetting the bright speed it had, until at last the dash of
+waves is heard, and its course is accomplished; but from first to last
+one stream, proceeding from a single source. Tourists may pick out
+a picturesque fragment of its wanderings, and this is well; but perhaps
+it is better to find the poetry of its entire career, from its cloudy
+cradle to the flats where it loses itself in the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>The first part of 'Faust' is itself the work of more periods than
+one. The original conception may belong to Goethe's student days
+at Strassburg. He had grown weary of the four Faculties,&mdash;alas,
+even of theology; he had known a maiden as fair and sweet and
+simple as Gretchen, and he had left her widowed of her first love;
+and there in Strassburg was the presence of that old Cathedral, which
+inspired so terrible a scene in the 'Faust.' From Strassburg he
+returned to Frankfort, and no moments of his career of authorship
+were more fruitful than these which preceded the first Weimar years.
+It was in the heart of the Storm and Stress; it was the time of
+'G&ouml;tz' and 'Mahomet' and the 'Wandering Jew' and 'Werther'
+and 'Prometheus.' Here in Faust was another and a nobler Werther
+seeking the infinite; here was another Prometheus, a Titan shackled
+yet unsubduable. By Goethe's twenty-sixth year the chief portions
+of the 'Faust, a Fragment,' published when he was forty-one, had
+been written. But two scenes were added in Rome,&mdash;one of these
+strange in its fantasy, the Witches' Kitchen,&mdash;as if to show that the
+poet of the North was not quite enslaved by the beauty of classic
+art. It was in the last decade of the eighteenth century that
+Schiller succeeded in persuading Goethe to open his Faust papers,
+and try to recover the threads of his design. Not until 1808, Goethe's
+fifty-ninth year, was the First Part published as we now possess it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 6392]</a></span>
+It is therefore incorrect to speak of this Part as the work of the
+author's youth; even here a series of strata belonging to different
+periods can be distinguished, and critics have contended that even in
+this Part may be discovered two schemes or plans not wholly in
+harmony each with the other.</p>
+
+<p>The first Fragment was written, as has been said, in the spirit of
+the Storm and Stress. Goethe was weary of the four Faculties. The
+magic work of the time which was to restore vigor and joy to men
+was <i>Nature</i>. This is the theme of the opening scene of 'Faust.'
+Among old instruments and dusty folios and ancestral lumber and
+brute skeletons, away from Nature and her living founts of inspiration,
+the old scholar has found neither joy nor true knowledge. He
+opens the book of Nostradamus and gazes upon the sign of the Macrocosm;
+here in a symbol he beholds the life and energy of nature:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Where shall I grasp thee, infinite Nature, where?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life whereon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hang heaven and earth."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>He cannot grasp them; and then turning from the great Cosmos, he
+thinks he may at least dare to invoke the spirit of our own mother
+planet Earth. But to Faust, with eyes bleared with the dust of the
+study, to Faust, living in his own speculations or in dogmatic systems,
+the aspect of the Earth Spirit&mdash;a living fire&mdash;is terrible. He
+falls back upon himself almost despairing, when the famulus Wagner
+enters. What Werner was to the idealist Wilhelm Meister, Wagner is
+to the idealist Faust: the mere scraping together of a little hoard of
+barren facts contents Wagner; such grief, such despair as Faust's, are
+for this Philistine of learning impossible. And then the fragment of
+1790 passes on to Mephistopheles. Whether or not Goethe found the
+features of his critical demon in Herder (as Grimm supposes), and
+afterwards united these to the more pronounced likeness in his friend
+Mephistopheles Merck, matters little. Whether Herder and Merck had
+been present or not, Goethe would have found Mephistopheles in his
+own heart. For the contrast between the idealist Faust and the realist
+Mephistopheles exists in some form or other in almost every great
+creation of Goethe. It is the contrast between Werther and Albert,
+between Tasso and Antonio, between Edward and the Captain. Sometimes
+the nobler spirit of worldliness is dwelt on, as in the case of
+Antonio; sometimes the cold, hard, cynical side, as in the case of
+Mephistopheles. The theme of Faust as originally conceived was the
+turning of an idealist from his own private thoughts and dreams to
+the real world; from all that is unnatural,&mdash;systems, speculations, barren
+knowledge,&mdash;to nature and the founts of life; from the solitary
+cell to the company of men; to action, beauty, life, and love. If he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 6393]</a></span>
+can really succeed in achieving this wisely and well, Faust is saved.
+He is delivered from solitude, the inane of speculation, the vagueness
+of idealism, and made one with the band of his toiling fellows. But
+to accompany him there is the spirit of base worldliness, the realist,
+the cynic, who sees the meaner side of all that is actual, who if possible
+will seduce Faust into accepting the world apart from that elevating
+spirit which ennobles actual life, who will try to baffle and
+degrade Faust by degrading all that he now seeks,&mdash;action and beauty
+and life and love.</p>
+
+<p>It is Goethe himself who is at odds with himself,&mdash;the realist
+Goethe set over against the idealist Goethe; and Mephistopheles is
+the base realist, the cynic whose endeavor is to mar the union of
+high poetry and high prose in human life, which union of high poetry
+with high prose Goethe always looked upon as the true condition of
+man's activity. In the Prologue in Heaven, written when Schiller
+had persuaded Goethe to take up the threads of his play, the Lord
+speaks of Faust as his servant. Mephistopheles wagers that he will
+seduce Faust from his allegiance to the Highest. The Lord does not
+wager; he <i>knows</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Though now he serve me in a maze of doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet I will lead him soon where all is clear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gardener knows, when first the bushes sprout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That bloom and fruit will deck the riper year."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>These vague passionate longings of Faust after truth and reality
+and life and love are not evil; they are good: they are as yet indeed
+but the sprouting of the immature leaf and bud, but the Lord sees
+in these the fruit that is to be. Therefore let Mephistopheles, the
+spirit of negation, try his worst, and at the last discover how an
+earnest striver's ways are justified by God. Faust may wander, err,
+fall, grievously offend,&mdash;"as long as man lives, man errs;" but for
+him who ever strives upward, through all his errors, there is redemption
+in the end.</p>
+
+<p>The poem belongs to its epoch. Faust is the idealist, Mephistopheles
+is the realist, of the eighteenth century. Faust aspires to
+nature and freedom like one who had drunk deeply of Rousseau.
+Mephistopheles speaks like a degraded disciple of Voltaire, who has
+lost his master's positive faith in the human reason. Goethe can accept
+as his own neither the position of Voltaire nor that of Rousseau;
+but actually he started in life as an antagonist of Voltaire and
+a disciple of Rousseau, and in like manner his Faust starts on his
+career as one who longs for a "return to nature." While from merely
+negative criticism nothing virtuous can be born, the vague longings
+of one who loves and hopes promise measureless good.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 6394]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Faust's vast aspirations, then, are not sinful; they only need to be
+limited and directed to suitable ends. It is as God's servant that he
+goes forth with the Demon from his study to the world. And Mephistopheles's
+first attempt to degrade Faust is a failure. In the orgy
+of Auerbach's cellar, while the boisterous young bloods clash their
+glasses, the old scholar sits silent, isolated, ashamed. It is only by
+infecting his blood with the witch's poison that Mephistopheles can
+lay hold of the spirit of Faust even for a time; and had he not seen
+in the mirror that vision of Helena, whom he rightly loves, and whom
+indeed he needs, he could not have put to his lips the filthy brewage
+of the witch. But now indeed he is snared; the poison rages in his
+veins; for one hour he is transformed into what the world basely calls
+a man of pleasure. Yet Faust is not wholly lost: his better self, the
+untrained, untamed idealist, begins to reassert its power; the fumes
+of the poison dissipate themselves. Guilty though he be, his love of
+Margaret is not what Mephistopheles requires that it should be: it is
+not calculating, egoistic, cynical, nor dull, easeful, and lethargic. It
+is not the crime of an experienced worldling nor of a dull, low liver:
+it is the crime of one whose unwise heart and untaught imagination
+delude him; and therefore though his fall be deep, it is not fatal.
+The wrong he has wrought may be blind and terrible as that of
+Othello to Desdemona; but it is not the serpentine stinging of an
+Iago or a Mephistopheles.</p>
+
+<p>So through anguish and remorse Faust is doing off the swathe-bands
+of delusion, learning to master his will, learning his own heart,
+learning the meaning of existence: he does not part from his ideal
+self, his high aspirations, his ardent hopes; he is rather transforming
+these into realities; he is advancing from dreams to facts, so that in
+the end, when his life becomes a lofty prose, it may be interpenetrated
+by a noble poetry.</p>
+
+<p>It were long to trace the history of Faust through the ever purifying
+and ascending scale of energies exhibited in the Second Part
+of the drama. Affairs of State, science, art, war&mdash;all that Goethe
+had known by experience&mdash;appear in this encyclop&aelig;dic poem. One
+word, however, must be said respecting the 'Helena.' It is a mistake
+to view this central portion of the Second Part as solely or chiefly
+an allegory of the wedlock of classic and romantic art. As science is
+shown to form a needful part of Faust's turning from the inane of
+metaphysics to the positive world, so from the Greek spirit he learns
+sanity and strength; the deliverance of the ideal man in Faust is
+aided by the beauty and the healthfulness of classic art. Through
+beauty, as Schiller tried to show in his letters on '&AElig;sthetic Culture,'
+we attain to freedom. Faust is not an artist, but a <i>man</i>; Helena is
+but one of the spirits whose influence is needed to make him real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 6395]</a></span>
+and elevated. It is she who qualifies him for achieving practical
+work in a high, ideal spirit.</p>
+
+<p>The Fourth Act of the Second Part is wholly concerned with practical
+work. What is this which engages the student of the metaphysic
+cell, who had gone through the four Faculties, and is now once again
+grown old? What is this? Only well-defined and useful activity. He
+has rescued some acres of arable land from the rage of the barren
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>But Faust is not yet wholly delivered from evil; his activity is useful,
+indeed, but it lacks the finer grace of charity. He commissions
+Mephistopheles to destroy the cottage of old Philemon and Baucis,
+which stands in the way of his territorial improvements. It is the
+last crime of the unregenerate will. The four gray women&mdash;Care
+and Blame and Want and Crime&mdash;now assail him; but there is virtue
+in him to the last. However it may be with himself, grant only
+that ages hence the children of men, free and happy, may dwell upon
+the soil which he has saved for their place of labor and of love,&mdash;grant
+but this, and even in the anticipation of it he is made possessor
+of the highest bliss. Nor indeed is higher permitted to man
+on earth. And now that Faust has at last found satisfaction, and
+said to the passing moment, "Stay, thou art so fair," the time has
+come for Mephistopheles to claim his soul. But in this very aspiration
+after the perfect joy of others&mdash;not his own&mdash;Faust is forever
+delivered from the Evil One. The gray old man lies stretched upon
+the sand. Higher powers than those of his own will take him, guard
+him, lead him forward. The messengers of God bear away his immortal
+part. All Holy Hermits, all Holy Innocents, all Holy Virgins,
+the less and the greater Angels, and redeemed women who have
+sinned and sorrowed and have been purified, aid in his ultimate purification.
+It is the same thought which was interpreted in a lower key
+when Wilhelm Meister's fate was intrusted to Natalia. Usefulness
+is good; activity is good: but over all these should soar and brood
+the Divine graces of life, and love the chief of these. That which
+leads us farther than all the rest is what Goethe names "the imperishable
+womanly grace," that of love. And so the great mystery-play
+reaches its close.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 514px;">
+<img src="images/sign163.png" width="514" height="59" alt="Edward Dowden" title="Edward Dowden" />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 6396]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><span class="smcap">Biographical Note.</span>&mdash;Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born at
+Frankfort-on-the-Main, August 28th, 1749; he attended the University
+of Leipzig 1765-1768, and went to Strassburg in 1770, where he met
+Herder, made the acquaintance of Shakespeare, and in 1771 took his
+degree. 'G&ouml;tz von Berlichingen' in 1773 announced the dawn of a
+new era in German letters, and in 1774 'The Sorrows of Werther'
+made the poet world-famous. In 1775 Goethe accepted the invitation
+of Duke Carl August and went to Weimar, which remained thenceforth
+his home. The Italian journey, marking an epoch in the poet's
+life, took place in 1786-1787. The 'Faust Fragment' appeared in
+1790. The friendship with Schiller, also of far-reaching importance
+in Goethe's life, began in 1794 and was terminated only by Schiller's
+death in 1805. 'Hermann and Dorothea' was published in 1797. In
+1806 Goethe married Christiane Vulpius. The First Part of 'Faust'
+appeared in 1808;&mdash;in 1816 the poet is at work upon his 'Autobiography'
+and the 'Italian Journey'; the first part of 'Wilhelm Meister's
+Apprenticeship' appeared in 1821, and was completed in 1829.
+'Faust' was finished on July 20th, 1831. Goethe died at Weimar on
+March 22d, 1832.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FROM_FAUST" id="FROM_FAUST"></a>FROM 'FAUST'</h3>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Chorus of the Archangels; from the Prologue in Heaven</span></h3>
+
+<h4>Shelley's Translation</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Raphael</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sun makes music as of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amid the rival spheres of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On its predestined circle rolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With thunder speed; the angels even<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Draw strength from gazing on its glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though none its meaning fathom may<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world's unwithered countenance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is bright as at creation's day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Gabriel</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And swift and swift with rapid lightness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The adorned earth spins silently,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alternating Elysian brightness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With deep and dreadful night; the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foams in broad billows from the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Up to the rocks, and rocks and ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Onward, with spheres which never sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are hurried in eternal motion.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Michael</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And tempests in contention roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From land to sea, from sea to land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And raging, weave a chain of power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which girds the earth as with a band.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 6397]</a></span><span class="i0">A flashing desolation there<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flames before the thunder's way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thy servants, Lord, revere<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The gentle changes of thy day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">CHORUS OF THE THREE</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The angels draw strength from thy glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though no one comprehend thee may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy world's unwithered countenance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is bright as on creation's day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="SCENES_FROM_FAUST" id="SCENES_FROM_FAUST"></a>SCENES FROM 'FAUST'</h3>
+
+<h4>Translated by Bayard Taylor</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>All the following selections from 'Faust' are from Taylor's translation.
+Copyright 1870, by Bayard Taylor, and reprinted here by permission of
+and special agreement with Mrs. Taylor, and Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co.,
+publishers, Boston.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Faust and Wagner</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Oh, happy he, who still renews<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The hope from Error's deeps to rise forever!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That which one does not know, one needs to use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And what one knows, one uses never.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But let us not, by such despondence, so<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The fortune of this hour embitter!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The green-embosomed houses glitter!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The glow retreats; done is the day of toil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then would I see eternal Evening gild<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The silent world beneath me glowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The silver brook to golden rivers flowing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The mountain chain, with all its gorges deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would then no more impede my godlike motion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now before mine eyes expands the ocean<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With all its bays, in shining sleep!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet finally the weary god is sinking;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The new-born impulse fires my mind.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 6398]</a></span><span class="i2">I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Day before me and the Night behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yet in each soul is born the pleasure<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of yearning onward, upward and away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The lark sends down his flickering lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When over crags and piny highlands<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The poising eagle slowly soars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And over plains and lakes and islands<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The crane sails by to other shores.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">WAGNER</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But never yet such impulse felt, as this is.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One soon fatigues on woods and fields to look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How otherwise the mental raptures bear us<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">From page to page, from book to book!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then winter nights take loveliness untold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As warmer life in every limb had crowned you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All heaven descends, and opens bright around you!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">One impulse art thou conscious of, at best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh, never seek to know the other!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One with tenacious organs holds in love<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And clinging lust the world in its embraces;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Into the high ancestral spaces.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">If there be airy spirits near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twixt heaven and earth on potent errands fleeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let them drop down the golden atmosphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bear me forth to new and varied being!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To waft me o'er the world at pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I would not for the costliest stores of treasure&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Not for a monarch's robe&mdash;the gift resign.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 6399]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Faust and Mephistopheles</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">E'er understood by such as thou?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet hast thou food which never satiates now:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That runs quicksilver-like one's fingers through;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A game whose winnings no man ever knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A maid that even from my breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And Honor's godlike zest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The meteor that a moment dances,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Such a demand alarms me not:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such treasures have I, and can show them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still the time may reach us, good my friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When peace we crave, and more luxurious diet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">There let at once my record end!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Until self-pleased myself I see,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let that day be the last for me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bet I offer.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Done!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">And heartily!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thus I hail the Moment flying:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Ah, still delay&mdash;thou art so fair!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then bind me in thy bonds undying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My final ruin then declare!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then let the death-bell chime the token,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then art thou from thy service free!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clock may stop, the hand be broken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then Time be finished unto me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 6400]</a></span></p>
+<h3><span class="smcap">Forest and Cavern</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST [<i>alone</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou gav'st me nature as a kingdom grand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But grantest that in her profoundest breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before me, teaching me to know my brothers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In air and water and the silent wood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the storm in forests roars and grinds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then to the cave secure thou leadest me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then show'st me mine own self, and in my breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep mysterious miracles unfold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the perfect moon before my gaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comes up with soothing light, around me float<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From every precipice and thicket damp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The silvery phantoms of the ages past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And temper the austere delight of thought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That nothing can be perfect unto Man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I now am conscious. With this ecstasy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which brings me near and nearer to the gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou gav'st the comrade, whom I now no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Demeans me to myself, and with a breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within my breast he fans a lawless fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 6401]</a></span></p>
+<h3><span class="smcap">Margaret</span></h3>
+<p class="center">[<i>At the spinning-wheel, alone</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My peace is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart is sore:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never shall find it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, nevermore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Save I have him near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grave is here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world is gall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bitterness all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My poor weak head<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is racked and crazed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My thought is lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My senses mazed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My peace is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My heart is sore:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never shall find it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, nevermore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To see him, him only,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the pane I sit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet him, him only,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The house I quit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His lofty gait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His noble size,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The smile of his mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The power of his eyes,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the magic flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of his talk, the bliss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the clasp of his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ah! his kiss!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My peace is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My heart is sore:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never shall find it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, nevermore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My bosom yearns<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For him alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, dared I clasp him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hold, and own!<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 6402]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And kiss his mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To heart's desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on his kisses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At last expire!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Martha's Garden</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Promise me, Henry!&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What I can!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">How is't with thy religion, pray?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art a dear, good-hearted man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Leave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love, my blood and life would I surrender,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as for faith and church, I grant to each his own.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That's not enough: we must believe thereon.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Must we?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Would that I had some influence!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I honor them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Desiring no possession.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Believest thou in God?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">My darling, who shall dare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I believe in God!" to say?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 6403]</a></span><span class="i1">Ask priest or sage the answer to declare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And it will seem a mocking play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sarcasm on the asker.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Then thou believest not!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Who dare express Him?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And who profess Him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Saying: I believe in Him!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Who, feeling, seeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Deny His being,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Saying: I believe Him not!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The All-enfolding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The All-upholding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Folds and upholds he not<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thee, me, Himself?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Arches not there the sky above us?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And rise not, on us shining<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Friendly, the everlasting stars?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Look I not, eye to eye, on thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And feel'st not, thronging<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To head and heart, the force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Still weaving its eternal secret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Invisible, visible, round thy life?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Call it, then, what thou wilt,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I have no name to give it!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Feeling is all in all:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Name is sound and smoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Obscuring Heaven's clear glow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All that is fine and good, to hear it so:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much the same way the preacher spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only with slightly different phrases.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">The same thing, in all places,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 6404]</a></span><span class="i1">Each in its language&mdash;say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then why not I in mine as well?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To hear it thus, it may seem passable;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet some hitch in't there must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou hast no Christianity.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear love!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">I've long been grieved to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou art in such company.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How so?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">The man who with thee goes, thy mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In all my life there's nothing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As his repulsive face has done.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I feel his presence like something ill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've else, for all, a kindly will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The secret horror of him returneth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I think the man a knave, as I live!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If I do him wrong, may God forgive!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There must be such queer birds, however.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Live with the like of him may I never!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When once inside the door comes he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He looks around so sneeringly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And half in wrath:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One sees that in nothing no interest he hath:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 6405]</a></span><span class="i0">'Tis written on his very forehead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That love, to him, is a thing abhorred.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am so happy on thine arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So free, so yielding, and so warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his presence stifled seems my heart.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Foreboding angel that thou art!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">In the Dungeon</span></h3>
+
+<h4><i>In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater Dolorosa.
+Pots of flowers before it</i></h4>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET<br />
+[<i>Putting fresh flowers in the pots</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Incline, O Maiden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou sorrow-laden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">The sword thy heart in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With anguish smarting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou lookest up to where thy Son is slain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Thou seest the Father;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The sad sighs gather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bear aloft thy sorrow and his pain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Ah, past guessing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Beyond expressing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pangs that wring my flesh and bone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why this anxious heart so burneth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why it trembleth, why it yearneth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knowest thou, and thou alone!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Where'er I go, what sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What woe, what woe and sorrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within my bosom aches!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alone, and ah! unsleeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The heart within me breaks.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The pots before my window,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Alas! my tears did wet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As in the early morning<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For thee these flowers I set.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 6406]</a></span><span class="i1">Within my lonely chamber<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The morning sun shone red:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I sat in utter sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Already on my bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Help! rescue me from death and stain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">O Maiden!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Thou sorrow-laden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Incline thy countenance upon my pain!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">IN THE DUNGEON</p>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>With a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A shudder, long unfelt, comes o'er me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mankind's collected woe o'erwhelms me here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And all her crime was a delusion dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What! I delay to free her?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">I dread, once again to see her?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p  class="center">[<i>He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside.</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4"><i>My mother the harlot,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i5"><i>Who put me to death;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>My father the varlet,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i5"><i>Who eaten me hath!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Little sister, so good,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Laid my bones in the wood,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>In the damp moss and clay:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Then was I a beautiful bird o' the wood:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Fly away! Fly away!</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST [<i>unlocking</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">She does not dream her lover listens near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>hiding herself on the pallet</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST [<i>whispering</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 6407]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>throwing herself before him</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Art thou a man? then pity my distress!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>on her knees</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who, headsman! unto thee such power<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Over me could give?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou'rt come for me at midnight hour:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Have mercy on me; let me live!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is't not soon enough when morning chime has rung?  [<i>She rises.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And I am yet so young, so young!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And now death comes, and ruin!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My love was near, but now he's far;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Seize me not thus so violently!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spare me! What have I done to thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let me not vainly entreat thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shall I outlive this misery?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Now am I wholly in thy might.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">But let me suckle, first, my baby!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I blissed it all this livelong night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">They took 't away, to vex me, maybe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And now they say I killed the child outright.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And never shall I be glad again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sing songs about me! 'tis bad of the folk to do it!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">There's an old story has the same refrain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Who bade them so construe it?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST [<i>falling upon his knees</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here lieth one who loves thee ever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thraldom of thy woe to sever.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 6408]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>flinging herself beside him</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh let us kneel, and call the saints to hide us!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Under the steps beside us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The threshold under,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Hell heaves in thunder!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The Evil One<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With terrible wrath<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Seeketh a path<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">His prey to discover!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST [<i>aloud</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Margaret! Margaret!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>attentively listening</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That was the voice of my lover!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Where is he? I heard him call me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I am free! No one shall enthrall me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">To his neck will I fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">On his bosom lie!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the threshold he stood, and <i>Margaret!</i> calling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Midst of hell's howling and noises appalling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis I!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis thou! O, say it once again!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>Clasping him.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Tis thou! Thou comest to save me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And I am saved!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Again the street I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Where first I looked on thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the garden, brightly blooming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where I and Martha wait thy coming.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST [<i>struggling to leave</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come! Come with me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="PRISON" id="PRISON"></a>
+<span class="caption"><i>FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON.</i></span>
+<img src="images/prison.jpg" width="100%" alt="FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON." title="FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON." />
+<p class="center"><b>Photogravure from a Drawing by A. Leisen-Mayer.</b></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 6409]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Delay, now!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fain I stay, when thou delayest!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>Caressing him.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Away, now!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">If longer here thou stayest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We shall be made to dearly rue it.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Kiss me!&mdash;canst no longer do it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My friend, so short a time thou 'rt missing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And hast unlearned thy kissing?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where once a heaven thy glances did create me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A heaven thy loving words expressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou didst kiss as thou wouldst suffocate me&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Kiss me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Or I'll kiss thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>She embraces him.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, woe! thy lips are chill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And still.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How changed in fashion<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy passion!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who has done me this ill?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>She turns away from him.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousandfold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But follow now! 'Tis all I beg of thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>turning to him</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis I! Come on!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">Thou wilt unloose my chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in thy lap wilt take me once again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak'st free?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 6410]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come! come! The night already vanisheth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">My mother have I put to death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I've drowned the baby born to thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was it not given to thee and me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee, too!&mdash;'Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy dear, dear hand!&mdash;But, ah, 'tis wet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">There's blood thereon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Ah, God! what hast thou done?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Nay, sheathe thy sword at last!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Do not affray me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, let the past be past!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy words will slay me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">No, no! Thou must outlive us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now I'll tell thee the graves to give us:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou must begin to-morrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The work of sorrow!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The best place give to my mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then close at her side my brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And me a little away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But not too very far, I pray!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here, on my right breast, my baby lay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nobody else will lie beside me!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, within thine arms to hide me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That was a sweet and a gracious bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But no more, no more can I attain it!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would force myself on thee and constrain it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And it seems thou repellest my kiss:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And yet 'tis thou, so good, so kind to see!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If thou feelest it is I, then come with me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out yonder?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 6411]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To freedom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">If the grave is there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Death lying in wait, then come!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From here to eternal rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No further step&mdash;no, no!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I dare not go: there's no hope any more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is so wretched, forced to beg my living,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bad conscience sharper misery giving!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'd still be followed and taken!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'll stay with thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Be quick! Be quick!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Save thy perishing child!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Away! Follow the ridge<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Up by the brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Over the bridge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Into the wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the left, where the plank is placed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the pool!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Seize it in haste!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Tis trying to rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Tis struggling still!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Save it! Save it!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Recall thy wandering will!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One step, and thou art free at last!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">If the mountain we had only passed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There sits my mother upon a stone,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 6412]</a></span><span class="i4">I feel an icy shiver!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There sits my mother upon a stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And her head is wagging ever.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o'er;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She slept so long that she wakes no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She slept, while we were caressing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ah, those were the days of blessing!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here words and prayers are nothing worth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll venture, then, to bear thee forth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No&mdash;let me go! I'll suffer no force!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grasp me not so murderously!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've done, else, all things for the love of thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Day? Yes, the day comes,&mdash;the last day breaks for me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My wedding day it was to be!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Tell no one thou hast been with Margaret!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Woe for my garland! The chances<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Are over&mdash;'tis all in vain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">We shall meet once again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But not at the dances!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken:<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">The square below<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the streets overflow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I am seized, and bound, and delivered&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shoved to the block&mdash;they give the sign!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now over each neck has quivered<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The blade that is quivering over mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Dumb lies the world like the grave!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, had I ne'er been born!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>appears outside</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Off! or you're lost ere morn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Useless talking, delaying, and praying!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 6413]</a></span><span class="i0">My horses are neighing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The morning twilight is near.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What rises up from the threshold here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He! he! suffer him not!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What does he want in this holy spot?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He seeks me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt live.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Judgment of God! myself to thee I give.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>to Faust</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come! or I'll leave her in the lurch, and thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARGARET</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thine am I, Father! rescue me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Camp around, and from evil ward me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Henry! I shudder to think of thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She is judged!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">VOICE [<i>from above</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She is saved!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>to Faust</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hither to me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>He disappears with Faust.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">VOICE [<i>from within, dying away</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Henry! Henry!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 6414]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Death of Foust</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">LEMURES<br />
+
+[<i>Digging with mocking gestures</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In youth when I did love, did love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Methought it was very sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When 'twas jolly and merry every way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I blithely moved my feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now old Age, with his stealing steps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hath clawed me with his crutch:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I stumbled over the door of a grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why leave they open such?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST<br />
+
+[<i>Comes forth from the palace, groping his way along the door-posts</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How I rejoice to hear the clattering spade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It is the crowd, for me in service moiling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Earth be reconciled to toiling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the proud waves be stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the sea girded with a rigid zone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>aside</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And yet thou'rt laboring for us alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With all thy dikes and bulwarks daring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since thou for Neptune art preparing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Ocean Devil&mdash;carousal great.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In every way shall ye be stranded;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The elements with us are banded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ruin is the certain fate.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Overseer!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Here!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">However possible,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Collect a crowd of men with vigor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spur by indulgence, praise, or rigor,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Reward, allure, conscript, compel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each day report me, and correctly note<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How grows in length the undertaken moat.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 6415]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>half aloud</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When they to me the information gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They spake not of a moat, but of&mdash;<i>a grave</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">FAUST</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Below the hills a marshy plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Infects what I so long have been retrieving;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This stagnant pool likewise to drain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were now my latest and my best achieving.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To many millions let me furnish soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though not secure, yet free to active toil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Green, fertile fields, where men and herds go forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At once, with comfort, on the newest earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swiftly settled on the hill's firm base,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Created by the bold, industrious race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A land like Paradise here, round about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up to the brink the tide may roar without,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though it gnaw, to burst with force the limit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By common impulse all unite to hem it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The last result of wisdom stamps it true:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He only earns his freedom and existence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who daily conquers them anew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And such a throng I fain would see,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand on free soil among a people free!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"<i>Ah, still delay&mdash;thou art so fair!</i>"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>The traces cannot, of mine earthly being,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>In &aelig;ons perish,&mdash;they are there!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>I now enjoy the highest Moment,&mdash;this!</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>Faust sinks back: the Lemures take him and lay him upon the ground.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No joy could sate him, and suffice no bliss!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To catch but shifting shapes was his endeavor:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The latest, poorest, emptiest Moment&mdash;this,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He wished to hold it fast forever.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me he resisted in such vigorous wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Time is lord, on earth the old man lies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clock stands still&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 6416]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">CHORUS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Stands still! silent as midnight, now!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The index falls.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It falls; and it is finished, here!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">CHORUS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis past!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Past! a stupid word.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If past, then why?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Past and pure Naught, complete monotony!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What good for us, this endlessly creating?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is created then annihilating?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And now it's past!" Why read a page so twisted?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis just the same as if it ne'er existed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet goes in circles round as if it had, however:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd rather choose, instead, the Void forever.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Salvation of Faust</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">ANGELS<br />
+
+[<i>Soaring in the higher atmosphere, bearing the immortal part of Faust</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The noble spirit now is free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And saved from evil scheming:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whoe'er aspires unweariedly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is not beyond redeeming.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if he feels the grace of love<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That from on high is given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blessed hosts, that wait above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall welcome him to heaven!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">THE YOUNGER ANGELS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They, the roses, freely spended<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the penitent, the glorious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helped to make the fight victorious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lofty work is ended.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We this precious soul have won us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Evil ones we forced to shun us;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 6417]</a></span><span class="i0">Devils fled us when we hit them:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Stead of pangs of hell, that bit them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love pangs felt they, sharper, vaster:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even he, old Satan Master,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pierced with keenest pain retreated.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now rejoice! The work's completed!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earth's residue to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hath sorely pressed us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It were not pure and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though 'twere asbestus.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When every element<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The mind's high forces<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have seized, subdued, and blent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No angel divorces<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twin natures single grown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That inly mate them:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eternal love alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can separate them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">THE YOUNGER ANGELS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mist-like on heights above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We now are seeing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nearer and nearer move<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spiritual Being.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clouds are growing clear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moving throngs appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of blessed boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free from the earthly gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In circling poise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who taste the cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the new springtime bloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the upper sphere.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let them inaugurate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him to the perfect state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, as their peer!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">THE BLESSED BOYS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gladly receive we now<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Him, as a chrysalis:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore achieve we now<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pledge of our bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 6418]</a></span><span class="i0">The earth-flakes dissipate<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That cling around him!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, he is fair and great!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Divine Life hath crowned him.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">DOCTOR MARIANUS<br />
+
+[<i>In the highest, purest cell</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Free is the view at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The spirit lifted:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There women, floating past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are upward drifted:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Glorious One therein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With star-crown tender,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pure, the Heavenly Queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I know her splendor.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>Enraptured</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Highest Mistress of the World!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let me in the azure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tent of Heaven, in light unfurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here thy Mystery measure!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Justify sweet thoughts that move<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breast of man to meet thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with holy bliss of love<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bear him up to greet thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With unconquered courage we<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Do thy bidding highest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But at once shall gentle be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When thou pacifiest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Virgin, pure in brightest sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mother sweet, supernal,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto us Elected Queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Peer of Gods Eternal!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Light clouds are circling<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Around her splendor,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Penitent women<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of natures tender,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her knees embracing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ether respiring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mercy requiring!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou, in immaculate ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mercy not leavest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the lightly led astray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Who trust thee, receivest!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 6419]</a></span><span class="i0">In their weakness fallen at length,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hard it is to save them:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who can crush, by native strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Vices that enslave them?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose the foot that may not slip<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the surface slanting?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom befool not eye and lip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breath and voice enchanting?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The</i> Mater Gloriosa <i>soars into the space</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">CHORUS OF WOMEN PENITENTS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To heights thou'rt speeding<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of endless Eden:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Receive our pleading,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Transcendent Maiden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With mercy laden!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Magna Peccatrix</span> [<i>St. Luke</i>, vii. 36]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the love before him kneeling,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Him, thy Son, a Godlike vision;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the tears like balsam stealing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spite of Pharisees' derision;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the box, whose ointment precious<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shed its spice and odors cheery;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the locks, whose softest meshes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dried the holy feet and weary!&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MULIER SAMARITANA [<i>St. John</i>, iv.]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By that well, the ancient station<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whither Abram's flocks were driven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the jar, whose restoration<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the Savior's lips was given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the fountain pure and vernal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thence its present bounty spending,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Overflowing, bright, eternal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Watering the worlds unending!&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MARIA &AElig;GYPTIACA [<i>Acta Sanctorum</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the place where the immortal<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Body of the Lord hath lain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the arm which, from the portal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Warning, thrust me back again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the forty years' repentance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the lonely desert land;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 6420]</a></span><span class="i0">By the blissful farewell sentence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which I wrote upon the sand!&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">THE THREE</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou thy presence not deniest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unto sinful women ever,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Liftest them to win the highest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gain of penitent endeavor,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, from this good soul withdraw not&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who but once forgot, transgressing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who her loving error saw not&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pardon adequate, and blessing!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">UNA P&#338;NITENTIUM<br />
+
+[<i>Formerly named Margaret, stealing closer</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Incline, O Maiden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With mercy laden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In light unfading,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy gracious countenance upon my bliss!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">My loved, my lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">His trials over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yonder world, returns to me in this!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">BLESSED BOYS<br />
+
+[<i>Approaching in hovering circles</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With mighty limbs he towers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Already above us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He, for this love of ours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will richlier love us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Early were we removed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere Life could reach us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet he hath learned and proved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he will teach us.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">THE PENITENT<br />
+
+[<i>Formerly named Margaret</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The spirit choir around him seeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">New to himself, he scarce divines<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heritage of new-born Being,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When like the Holy Host he shines.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, how he each band hath cloven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The earthly life had round him thrown,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 6421]</a></span><span class="i0">And through his garb, of ether woven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The early force of youth is shown!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vouchsafe to me that I instruct him!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still dazzles him the Day's new glare.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">MATER GLORIOSA</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rise thou to higher spheres! Conduct him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who, feeling thee, shall follow there!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">DOCTOR MARIANUS<br />
+
+[<i>Prostrate, adoring</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Penitents, look up, elate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where she beams salvation;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gratefully to blessed fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grow, in re-creation!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be our souls, as they have been,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dedicate to thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Goddess, gracious be!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">CHORUS MYSTICUS</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All things transitory<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But as symbols are sent:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth's insufficiency<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here grows to Event:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Indescribable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here it is done:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Woman Soul leadeth us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upward and on!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="MIGNONS_LOVE_AND_LONGING" id="MIGNONS_LOVE_AND_LONGING"></a>MIGNON'S LOVE AND LONGING</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation</h4>
+
+
+<p>Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a love
+which has been nursed in silence; of a faith grown strong
+in secret, and which at last comes forth in the hour of
+need and reveals itself to him who formerly has reckoned it of
+small account. The bud which had been closed so long and
+firmly was now ripe to burst its swathings, and Wilhelm's heart
+could never have been readier to welcome the impressions of
+affection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 6422]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. "Master!"
+she cried, "if thou art unhappy, what will become of Mignon?"
+"Dear little creature," said he, taking her hands, "thou too art
+part of my anxieties. I must go hence." She looked at his eyes,
+glistening with restrained tears, and knelt down with vehemence
+before him. He kept her hands; she laid her head upon his
+knees, and remained quite still. He played with her hair, patted
+her, and spoke kindly to her. She continued motionless for a
+considerable time. At last he felt a sort of palpitating movement
+in her, which began very softly, and then by degrees, with increasing
+violence, diffused itself over all her frame. "What ails
+thee, Mignon?" cried he; "what ails thee?" She raised her little
+head, looked at him, and all at once laid her hand upon her
+heart, with the countenance of one repressing the utterance of
+pain. He raised her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed
+her towards him, and kissed her. She replied not by any pressure
+of the hand, by any motion whatever. She held firmly
+against her heart; and all at once gave a cry, which was accompanied
+by spasmodic movements of the body. She started up,
+and immediately fell down before him, as if broken in every
+joint. It was an excruciating moment! "My child!" cried he,
+raising her up and clasping her fast,&mdash;"my child, what ails thee?"
+The palpitations continued, spreading from the heart over all the
+lax and powerless limbs; she was merely hanging in his arms.
+All at once she again became quite stiff, like one enduring the
+sharpest corporeal agony; and soon with a new vehemence all
+her frame once more became alive, and she threw herself about
+his neck, like a bent spring that is closing; while in her soul, as
+it were, a strong rent took place, and at the same moment a
+stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes into his bosom. He
+held her fast. She wept, and no tongue can express the force
+of these tears. Her long hair had loosened, and was hanging
+down before her; it seemed as if her whole being was melting
+incessantly into a brook of tears. Her rigid limbs were again
+become relaxed; her inmost soul was pouring itself forth; in the
+wild confusion of the moment, Wilhelm was afraid she would
+dissolve in his arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp.
+He held her faster and faster. "My child!" cried he, "my child!
+thou art indeed mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou art
+mine! I will keep thee, I will never forsake thee!" Her tears
+continued flowing. At last she raised herself; a faint gladness
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 6423]</a></span>
+shone upon her face. "My father!" cried she, "thou wilt not
+forsake me? Wilt be my father? I am thy child!"</p>
+
+<p>Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before the
+door; the old man brought his most affecting songs as an evening
+offering to our friend, who, holding his child ever faster in
+his arms, enjoyed the most pure and undescribable felicity.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Know'st thou the land where citron-apples bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gentle wind from deep-blue heaven blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know'st thou it then?<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">'Tis there! Tis there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O my true loved one, thou with me must go!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marble statues stand, and look each one:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What's this, poor child, to thee they've done?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know'st thou it then?<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">'Tis there! 'Tis there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O my protector, thou with me must go!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In caves lie coiled the dragon's ancient brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crag leaps down, and over it the flood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know'st thou it then?<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">'Tis there! 'Tis there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our way runs: O my father, wilt thou go?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, Wilhelm
+did not find her, but was informed that she had gone out
+early with Melina, who had risen betimes to receive the wardrobe
+and other apparatus of his theatre.</p>
+
+<p>After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound of
+music before his door. At first he thought it was the harper
+come again to visit him; but he soon distinguished the tones of
+a cithern, and the voice which began to sing was Mignon's.
+Wilhelm opened the door; the child came in, and sang him the
+song we have just given above.</p>
+
+<p>The music and general expression of it pleased our friend
+extremely, though he could not understand all the words. He
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 6424]</a></span>
+made her once more repeat the stanzas, and explain them; he
+wrote them down, and translated them into his native language.
+But the originality of its turns he could imitate only from afar:
+its childlike innocence of expression vanished from it in the process
+of reducing its broken phraseology to uniformity, and combining
+its disjointed parts. The charm of the tune, moreover,
+was entirely incomparable.</p>
+
+<p>She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if
+she wished to draw attention towards something wonderful, as if
+she had something weighty to communicate. In the third line, her
+tones became deeper and gloomier; the "Know'st thou it then?"
+was uttered with a show of mystery and eager circumspectness;
+in the "'Tis there! 'Tis there!" lay a boundless longing; and her
+"With me must go!" she modified at each repetition, so that now
+it appeared to entreat and implore, now to impel and persuade.</p>
+
+<p>On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent for
+a moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, "<i>Know'st</i>
+thou the land?" "It must mean Italy," said Wilhelm: "where
+didst thou get the little song?" "Italy!" said Mignon, with an
+earnest air. "If thou go to Italy, take me along with thee; for
+I am too cold here." "Hast thou been there already, little
+dear?" said Wilhelm. But the child was silent, and nothing more
+could be got out of her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="WILHELM_MEISTERS_INTRODUCTION_TO_SHAKESPEARE" id="WILHELM_MEISTERS_INTRODUCTION_TO_SHAKESPEARE"></a>WILHELM MEISTER'S INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation</h4>
+
+
+<p>"Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, "read one of
+Shakespeare's plays?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Wilhelm: "since the time when they became
+more known in Germany, I have myself grown unacquainted
+with the theatre; and I know not whether I should now rejoice
+that an old taste and occupation of my youth, has been by
+chance renewed. In the mean time, all that I have heard of
+these plays has excited little wish to become acquainted with
+such extraordinary monsters, which appear to set probability and
+dignity alike at defiance."</p>
+
+<p>"I would advise you," said the other, "to make a trial, notwithstanding:
+it can do one no harm to look at what is extraordinary
+with one's own eyes. I will lend you a volume or two; and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 6425]</a></span>
+you cannot better spend your time than by casting everything
+aside, and retiring to the solitude of your old habitation, to look
+into the magic lantern of that unknown world. It is sinful of
+you to waste your hours in dressing out these apes to look more
+human, and teaching dogs to dance. One thing only I require,&mdash;you
+must not cavil at the form; the rest I can leave to your
+own good sense and feeling."</p>
+
+<p>The horses were standing at the door; and Jarno mounted
+with some other cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked after
+him with sadness. He would fain have spoken much with this
+man who though in a harsh, unfriendly way, gave him new
+ideas,&mdash;ideas that he had need of.</p>
+
+<p>Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development of his
+powers, capacities, and conceptions, gets into a perplexity from
+which a prudent friend might easily deliver him. He resembles
+a traveler, who, at but a short distance from the inn he is to
+rest at, falls into the water: were any one to catch him then
+and pull him to the bank, with one good wetting it were over;
+whereas, though he struggles out himself, it is often at the side
+where he tumbled in, and he has to make a wide and weary circuit
+before reaching his appointed object.</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went forward
+in the world differently from what he had supposed. He
+now viewed close at hand the solemn and imposing life of the
+great and distinguished, and wondered at the easy dignity which
+they contrived to give it. An army on its march, a princely
+hero at the head of it, such a multitude of co-operating warriors,
+such a multitude of crowding worshipers, exalted his imagination.
+In this mood he received the promised books; and ere long, as
+may be easily supposed, the stream of that mighty genius laid
+hold of him and led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he
+soon completely forgot and lost himself....</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm had scarcely read one or two of Shakespeare's plays,
+till their effect on him became so strong that he could go no
+further. His whole soul was in commotion. He sought an
+opportunity to speak with Jarno; to whom, on meeting with him,
+he expressed his boundless gratitude for such delicious entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>"I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, "that you would not
+remain insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary and
+most admirable of all writers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 6426]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" exclaimed our friend: "I cannot recollect that any
+book, any man, any incident of my life, has produced such important
+effects on me, as the precious works to which by your
+kindness I have been directed. They seem as if they were performances
+of some celestial genius descending among men, to
+make them by the mildest instructions acquainted with themselves.
+They are no fictions! You would think, while reading
+them, you stood before the inclosed awful Books of Fate, while
+the whirlwind of most impassioned life was howling through the
+leaves, and tossing them fiercely to and fro. The strength and
+tenderness, the power and peacefulness of this man, have so
+astonished and transported me, that I long vehemently for the
+time when I shall have it in my power to read further."</p>
+
+<p>"Bravo!" said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeezing our
+friend's. "This is as it should be! And the consequences which
+I hope for will likewise surely follow."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish," said Wilhelm, "I could but disclose to you all that
+is going on within me even now. All the anticipations I have
+ever had regarding man and his destiny, which have accompanied
+me from youth upwards often unobserved by myself, I find developed
+and fulfilled in Shakespeare's writings. It seems as if
+he cleared up every one of our enigmas to us, though we cannot
+say, Here or there is the word of solution. His men appear
+like natural men, and yet they are not. These, the most mysterious
+and complex productions of creation, here act before us as
+if they were watches, whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal,
+which pointed out according to their use the course of the hours
+and minutes; while at the same time you could discern the combination
+of wheels and springs that turn them. The few glances
+I have cast over Shakespeare's world incite me, more than anything
+beside, to quicken my footsteps forward into the actual
+world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that is suspended over
+it; and at length, if I shall prosper, to draw a few cups from
+the great ocean of true nature, and to distribute them from off
+the stage among the thirsting people of my native land."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 6427]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="WILHELM_MEISTERS_ANALYSIS_OF_HAMLET" id="WILHELM_MEISTERS_ANALYSIS_OF_HAMLET"></a>WILHELM MEISTER'S ANALYSIS OF HAMLET</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4>
+
+<p>Seeing the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now hoped
+he might further have it in his power to converse with them
+on the poetic merit of the pieces which might come before
+them. "It is not enough," said he next day, when they were
+all again assembled, "for the actor merely to glance over a dramatic
+work, to judge of it by his first impression, and thus without
+investigation to declare his satisfaction or dissatisfaction with
+it. Such things may be allowed in a spectator, whose purpose it
+is rather to be entertained and moved than formally to criticize.
+But the actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give a
+reason for his praise or censure: and how shall he do this if he
+have not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views, and
+feelings of his author? A common error is, to form a judgment
+of a drama from a single part in it; and to look upon this part
+itself in an isolated point of view, not in its connection with the
+whole. I have noticed this within a few days so clearly in my
+own conduct, that I will give you the account as an example, if
+you please to hear me patiently.</p>
+
+<p>"You all know Shakespeare's incomparable 'Hamlet': our
+public reading of it at the Castle yielded every one of us the
+greatest satisfaction. On that occasion we proposed to act the
+piece; and I, not knowing what I undertook, engaged to play
+the Prince's part. This I conceived that I was studying, while
+I began to get by heart the strongest passages, the soliloquies,
+and those scenes in which force of soul, vehemence, and elevation
+of feeling have the freest scope; where the agitated heart is
+allowed to display itself with touching expressiveness.</p>
+
+<p>"I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the
+spirit of the character, while I endeavored as it were to take
+upon myself the load of deep melancholy under which my prototype
+was laboring, and in this humor to pursue him through the
+strange labyrinths of his caprices and his singularities. Thus
+learning, thus practicing, I doubted not but I should by-and-by
+become one person with my hero.</p>
+
+<p>"But the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it become
+for me to form any image of the whole, in its general bearings;
+till at last it seemed as if impossible. I next went through the
+entire piece, without interruption; but here too I found much
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 6428]</a></span>
+that I could not away with. At one time the characters, at
+another time the manner of displaying them, seemed inconsistent;
+and I almost despaired of finding any general tint, in which I
+might present my whole part with all its shadings and variations.
+In such devious paths I toiled, and wandered long in
+vain; till at length a hope arose that I might reach my aim in
+quite a new way.</p>
+
+<p>"I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's character,
+as it had shown itself before his father's death: I endeavored to
+distinguish what in it was independent of this mournful event;
+independent of the terrible events that followed; and what most
+probably the young man would have been, had no such thing
+occurred.</p>
+
+<p>"Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had sprung
+up under the immediate influences of majesty; the idea of moral
+rectitude with that of princely elevation, the feeling of the good
+and dignified with the consciousness of high birth, had in him
+been unfolded simultaneously. He was a prince, by birth a
+prince; and he wished to reign, only that good men might be
+good without obstruction. Pleasing in form, polished by nature,
+courteous from the heart, he was meant to be the pattern of
+youth and the joy of the world.</p>
+
+<p>"Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was a
+still presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly accomplishments
+was not entirely his own; it needed to be quickened
+and inflamed by praise bestowed on others for excelling in them.
+Pure in sentiment, he knew the honorable-minded, and could
+prize the rest which an upright spirit tastes on the bosom of a
+friend. To a certain degree, he had learned to discern and value
+the good and the beautiful in arts and sciences; the mean, the
+vulgar was offensive to him: and if hatred could take root in his
+tender soul, it was only so far as to make him properly despise
+the false and changeful insects of a court, and play with them
+in easy scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in his conduct,
+neither pleased with idleness nor too violently eager for
+employment. The routine of a university he seemed to continue
+when at court. He possessed more mirth of humor than of
+heart; he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, discreet, and
+able to forget and forgive an injury, yet never able to unite
+himself with those who overstept the limits of the right, the
+good, and the becoming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 6429]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether I
+am yet on the proper track. I hope at least to bring forward
+passages that shall support my opinion in its main points."</p>
+
+<p>This delineation was received with warm approval; the company
+imagined they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of proceeding
+might now be very satisfactorily explained; they applauded this
+method of penetrating into the spirit of a writer. Each of them
+proposed to himself to take up some piece, and study it on these
+principles, and so unfold the author's meaning ....</p>
+
+<p>Loving Shakespeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead
+round the conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Expressing,
+as he entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new epoch
+which these exquisite productions must form in Germany, he ere
+long introduced his 'Hamlet,' who had busied him so much of
+late.</p>
+
+<p>Serlo declared that he would long ago have played the piece,
+had this been possible, and that he himself would willingly engage
+to act Polonius. He added with a smile, "An Ophelia too
+will certainly turn up, if we had but a Prince."</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at
+her brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein, becoming
+copious and didactic, expounding how he would have
+'Hamlet' played. He circumstantially delivered to his hearers
+the opinions we before saw him busied with; taking all the
+trouble possible to make his notion of the matter acceptable,
+skeptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it. "Well then," said
+the latter finally, "suppose we grant you all this, what will you
+explain by it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Much, everything," said Wilhelm. "Conceive a prince such
+as I have painted him, and that his father suddenly dies. Ambition
+and the love of rule are not the passions that inspire him.
+As a king's son, he would have been contented; but now he is
+first constrained to consider the difference which separates a sovereign
+from a subject. The crown was not hereditary; yet a
+longer possession of it by his father would have strengthened the
+pretensions of an only son, and secured his hopes of the succession.
+In place of this, he now beholds himself excluded by his
+uncle, in spite of specious promises, most probably forever. He
+is now poor in goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene
+which from youth he had looked upon as his inheritance. His
+temper here assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 6430]</a></span>
+he is not more, that he is less, than a private nobleman; he
+offers himself as the servant of every one; he is not courteous
+and condescending, he is needy and degraded.</p>
+
+<p>"His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It
+is in vain that his uncle strives to cheer him, to present his situation
+in another point of view. The feeling of his nothingness
+will not leave him.</p>
+
+<p>"The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper,
+bowed still more. It was the marriage of his mother. The
+faithful tender son had yet a mother, when his father passed
+away. He hoped in the company of his surviving, noble-minded
+parent, to reverence the heroic form of the departed; but his
+mother too he loses, and it is something worse than death that
+robs him of her. The trustful image which a good child loves
+to form of its parents is gone. With the dead there is no help;
+on the living no hold. She also is a woman, and her name is
+Frailty, like that of all her sex.</p>
+
+<p>"Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphaned;
+and no happiness of life can repay what he has lost. Not reflective
+or sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow have become
+for him a heavy obligation. It is thus that we see him first enter
+on the scene. I do not think that I have mixed aught foreign
+with the piece, or overcharged a single feature of it."</p>
+
+<p>Serlo looked at his sister and said, "Did I give thee a false
+picture of our friend? He begins well; he has still many things
+to tell us, many to persuade us of." Wilhelm asseverated loudly
+that he meant not to persuade but to convince; he begged for
+another moment's patience.</p>
+
+<p>"Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, "this son of
+princes; conceive him vividly, bring his state before your eyes,
+and then observe him when he learns that his father's spirit
+walks; stand by him in the terrors of the night, when the venerable
+ghost itself appears before him. A horrid shudder passes
+over him; he speaks to the mysterious form; he sees it beckon
+him; he follows it, and hears. The fearful accusation of his
+uncle rings in his ears; the summons to revenge, and the piercing
+oft-repeated prayer, Remember me!</p>
+
+<p>"And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands before
+us? A young hero panting for vengeance? A prince by
+birth, rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of his crown?
+No! trouble and astonishment take hold of the solitary young
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 6431]</a></span>
+man; he grows bitter against smiling villains, swears that he will
+not forget the spirit, and concludes with the significant ejaculation:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ever I was born to set it right!'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Hamlet's
+whole procedure. To me it is clear that Shakespeare meant, in
+the present case, to represent the effects of a great action laid
+upon a soul unfit for the performance of it. In this view the
+whole piece seems to me to be composed. There is an oak-tree
+planted in a costly jar, which should have borne only pleasant
+flowers in its bosom; the roots expand, the jar is shivered.</p>
+
+<p>"A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without the
+strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burden
+which it cannot bear and must not cast away. All duties are
+holy for him; the present is too hard. Impossibilities have been
+required of him, not in themselves impossibilities, but such for
+him. He winds, and turns, and torments himself; he advances
+and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself in mind; at
+last does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts; yet still
+without recovering his peace of mind."</p>
+
+<p>Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing;
+at last she conducted Wilhelm to another room, and going to the
+window, and looking out at the starry sky she said to him, "You
+have still much to tell us about Hamlet; I will not hurry you;
+my brother must hear it as well as I; but let me beg to know
+your thoughts about Ophelia."</p>
+
+<p>"Of her there cannot much be said," he answered; "for a few
+master strokes complete her character. The whole being of
+Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the
+Prince, to whose hand she may aspire, flows so spontaneously,
+her tender heart obeys its impulses so unresistingly, that both
+father and brother are afraid; both give her warning harshly and
+directly. Decorum, like the thin lawn upon her bosom, cannot
+hide the soft, still movements of her heart; it on the contrary
+betrays them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes
+amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity should
+shake the tree, its fruit would fall."</p>
+
+<p>"And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself forsaken,
+cast away, despised; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 6432]</a></span>
+lover, and the highest changes to the lowest, and instead of the
+sweet cup of love he offers her the bitter cup of woe&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; "the whole structure of
+her being is loosened from its joinings; her father's death strikes
+fiercely against it; and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into
+fragments...."</p>
+
+<p>Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister; and
+looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, "So
+you are again at 'Hamlet'? Very good! Many doubts have
+arisen in me, which seem not a little to impair the canonical
+aspect of the piece as you would have it viewed. The English
+themselves have admitted that its chief interest concludes with
+the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and scarcely uniting
+with the rest: and certainly about the end it seems to stand
+stock still."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some individuals of
+a nation which has so many masterpieces to feel proud of, may
+be led by prejudice and narrowness of mind to form false judgments;
+but this cannot hinder us from looking with our own
+eyes, and doing justice where we see it due. I am very far
+from censuring the plan of 'Hamlet': on the other hand, I believe
+there never was a grander one invented; nay, it is not
+invented, it is real."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you demonstrate that?" inquired Serlo.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not demonstrate anything," said Wilhelm; "I will
+merely show you what my own conceptions of it are."</p>
+
+<p>Aurelia rose up from her cushion, leaned upon her hand, and
+looked at Wilhelm; who, with the firmest assurance that he was
+in the right, went on as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It pleases us, it flatters us to see a hero acting on his own
+strength; loving and hating as his heart directs him; undertaking
+and completing; casting every obstacle aside; and at length
+attaining some great object which he aimed at. Poets and historians
+would willingly persuade us that so proud a lot may fall to
+man. In 'Hamlet' we are taught another lesson: the hero is
+without a plan, but the piece is full of plan. Here we have no
+villain punished on some self-conceived and rigidly accomplished
+scheme of vengeance: a horrid deed occurs; it rolls itself along
+with all its consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its
+course; the perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss
+which is made ready for him, yet he plunges in, at the very
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 6433]</a></span>
+point by which he thinks he shall escape and happily complete
+his course.</p>
+
+<p>"For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief over
+innocence, as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over many
+that deserve them not; while frequently the author of the one or
+of the other is not punished or rewarded at all. Here in this
+play of ours, how strange! The Pit of Darkness sends its spirit
+and demands revenge; in vain! All circumstances tend one
+way, and hurry to revenge; in vain! Neither earthly nor infernal
+thing may bring about what is reserved for Fate alone. The
+hour of judgment comes: the wicked falls with the good; one
+race is mowed away, that another may spring up."</p>
+
+<p>After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo
+said: "You pay no great compliment to Providence, in thus
+exalting Shakespeare; and besides, it appears to me that for the
+honor of your poet, as others for the honor of Providence, you
+ascribe to him an object and a plan which he himself had never
+thought of."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have looked
+at Ophelia's part again; I am contented with it, and conceive
+that under certain circumstances I could play it. But tell me,
+should not the poet have furnished the insane maiden with
+another sort of songs? Could not one select some fragments out
+of melancholy ballads for this purpose? What have double
+meanings and lascivious insipidities to do in the mouth of such a
+noble-minded person?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "even here I cannot yield you
+one iota. In these singularities, in this apparent impropriety, a
+deep sense is hid. Do we not understand from the very first
+what the mind of the good soft-hearted girl was busied with?
+Silently she lived within herself, yet she scarce concealed her
+wishes, her longing; the tones of desire were in secret ringing
+through her soul; and how often may she have attempted, like
+an unskillful nurse, to lull her senses to repose with songs
+which only kept them more awake? But at last, when her self-command
+is altogether gone, when the secrets of her heart are
+hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays her; and in the
+innocence of insanity she solaces herself, unmindful of king or
+queen, with the echo of her loose and well-beloved songs, 'Tomorrow
+is Saint Valentine's Day,' and 'By Gis and by Saint
+Charity.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 6434]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am much mistaken," cried he, "if I have not now discovered
+how the whole is to be managed; nay, I am convinced
+that Shakespeare himself would have arranged it so, had not
+his mind been too exclusively directed to the ruling interest, and
+perhaps misled by the novels which furnished him with his
+materials."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of
+solemnity upon the sofa; "I will listen calmly, but judge with
+rigor."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm; "only hear me. In
+the composition of this play, after the most accurate investigation
+and the most mature reflection, I distinguish two classes of
+objects. The first are the grand internal relations of the persons
+and events, the powerful effects which arise from the characters
+and proceedings of the main figures: these, I hold, are individually
+excellent, and the order in which they are presented cannot
+be improved. No kind of interference must be suffered to
+destroy them, or even essentially to change their form. These
+are the things which stamp themselves deep into the soul;
+which all men long to see, which no one dares to meddle with.
+Accordingly, I understand, they have almost wholly been retained
+in all our German theatres.</p>
+
+<p>"But our countrymen have erred, in my opinion, with regard
+to the second class of objects which may be observed in this
+tragedy: I allude to the external relations of the persons, whereby
+they are brought from place to place, or combined in various
+ways by certain accidental incidents. These they have looked
+upon as very unimportant; have spoken of them only in passing,
+or left them out altogether. Now indeed it must be owned
+that these threads are slack and slender; yet they run through
+the entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise
+fall asunder, and does actually fall asunder when you cut them
+off, and imagine you have done enough and more if you have
+left the ends hanging.</p>
+
+<p>"Among these external relations I include the disturbances
+in Norway, the war with young Fortinbras, the embassy to his
+uncle, the settling of that feud, the march of young Fortinbras
+to Poland, and his coming back at the end; of the same sort are
+Horatio's return from Wittenberg, Hamlet's wish to go thither,
+the journey of Laertes to France, his return, the dispatch of
+Hamlet into England, his capture by pirates, the death of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 6435]</a></span>
+two courtiers by the letter which they carried. All these circumstances
+and events would be very fit for expanding and lengthening
+a novel; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of
+the piece,&mdash;particularly as the hero had no plan,&mdash;and are in
+consequence entirely out of place."</p>
+
+<p>"For once in the right!" cried Serlo.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm; "perhaps you
+will not always think me right. These errors are like temporary
+props of an edifice; they must not be removed till we have built
+a firm wall in their stead. My project therefore is, not at all to
+change those first-mentioned grand situations, or at least as much
+as possible to spare them, both collectively and individually; but
+with respect to these external, single, dissipated, and dissipating
+motives, to cast them all at once away, and substitute a solitary
+one instead of them."</p>
+
+<p>"And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent
+posture.</p>
+
+<p>"It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, "only I employ
+it rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You shall
+hear my plan and try it.</p>
+
+<p>"After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately
+conquered, grow unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his
+son Horatio, an old school friend of Hamlet's, and distinguished
+above every other for his bravery and prudence, to Denmark, to
+press forward the equipment of the fleet, which under the new
+luxurious King proceeds but slowly. Horatio has known the
+former King, having fought in his battles, having even stood in
+favor with him; a circumstance by which the first ghost scene
+will be nothing injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audience,
+and sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the
+fleet will soon arrive, whilst Horatio is commissioned to accelerate
+the preparation of it; and the Queen, on the other hand, will
+not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes, should go to sea along
+with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven be praised!" cried Serlo; "we shall now get rid of
+Wittenberg and the university, which was always a sorry piece
+of business. I think your idea extremely good: for except these
+two distant objects, Norway and the fleet, the spectator will not
+be required to <i>fancy</i> anything: the rest he will <i>see</i>; the rest takes
+place before him; whereas his imagination, on the other plan, was
+hunted over all the world."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 6436]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, "how I shall contrive to
+keep the other parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of
+his uncle's crime, Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his
+company, to secure the affections of the army, and return in war-like
+force. Hamlet also is becoming dangerous to the King and
+Queen; they find no readier method of deliverance than to send
+him in the fleet, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to be spies
+upon him: and as Laertes in the mean time comes from France,
+they determine that this youth, exasperated even to murder,
+shall go after him. Unfavorable winds detain the fleet; Hamlet
+returns: for his wandering through the church-yard perhaps some
+lucky motive may be thought of; his meeting with Laertes in
+Ophelia's grave is a grand moment, which we must not part
+with. After this, the King resolves that it is better to get quit
+of Hamlet on the spot: the festival of his departure, the pretended
+reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized; on
+which occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights with
+Hamlet. Without the four corpses I cannot end the piece; not
+one of them can possibly be left. The right of popular election
+now again comes in force, and Hamlet gives his dying voice for
+Horatio."</p>
+
+<p>"Quick! quick!" said Serlo; "sit down and work the piece;
+your plan has my entire approbation; only do not let your zeal
+for it evaporate." ...</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm had already been for some time busied with translating
+Hamlet; making use, as he labored, of Wieland's spirited
+performance, by means of which he had first become acquainted
+with Shakespeare. What in Wieland's work had been omitted he
+replaced; and he had at length procured himself a complete version,
+at the very time when Serlo and he finally agreed about
+the way of treating it. He now began, according to his plan, to
+cut out and insert, to separate and unite, to alter and often to
+restore; for satisfied as he was with his own conception, it still
+appeared to him as if in executing it he were but spoiling the
+original.</p>
+
+<p>So soon as all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and
+the rest. They declared themselves exceedingly contented with
+it; Serlo in particular made many flattering observations.</p>
+
+<p>"You have felt very justly," said he, among other things,
+"that some external circumstances must accompany this piece;
+but that they must be simpler than those which the great poet
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 6437]</a></span>
+has employed. What takes place without the theatre&mdash;what the
+spectator does not see, but must imagine for himself&mdash;is like a
+background, in front of which the acting figures move. Your
+large and simple prospect of the fleet and Norway will very
+much improve the piece; if this were altogether taken from it,
+we should have but a family scene remaining; and the great
+idea, that here a kingly house by internal crimes and incongruities
+goes down to ruin, would not be presented with its proper
+dignity. But if the former background were left standing, so
+manifold, so fluctuating and confused, it would hurt the impression
+of the figures."</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm again took Shakespeare's part: alleging that he wrote
+for islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the distance,
+were accustomed to see little else than ships and voyages, the
+coast of France and privateers; and thus what perplexed and
+distracted others was to them quite natural.</p>
+
+<p>Serlo assented; and both of them were of opinion that as the
+piece was now to be produced upon the German stage, this more
+serious and simple background was the best adapted for the German
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>The parts had been distributed before: Serlo undertook Polonius;
+Aurelia undertook Ophelia; Laertes was already designated
+by his name; a young, thick-set, jolly new-comer was to be
+Horatio; the King and the Ghost alone occasioned some perplexity.
+For both of these was no one but Old Boisterous remaining.
+Serlo proposed to make the Pedant King; but against this our
+friend protested in the strongest terms. They could resolve on
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm also had allowed both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
+to continue in his piece. "Why not compress them into one?"
+said Serlo. "This abbreviation will not cost you much."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven keep me from such curtailments!" answered Wilhelm;
+"they destroy at once the sense and the effect. What
+these two persons are and do it is impossible to represent by
+one. In such small matters we discover Shakespeare's greatness.
+These soft approaches, this smirking and bowing, this assenting,
+wheedling, flattering, this whisking agility, this wagging of the
+tail, this allness and emptiness, this legal knavery, this ineptitude
+and insipidity,&mdash;how can they be expressed by a single man?
+There ought to be at least a dozen of these people if they could
+be had, for it is only in society that they are anything; they are
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 6438]</a></span>
+society itself; and Shakespeare showed no little wisdom and discernment
+in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need them
+as a couple that may be contrasted with the single, noble, excellent
+Horatio."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_INDENTURE" id="THE_INDENTURE"></a>THE INDENTURE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4>
+
+<p>Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient.
+To act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our
+thought is troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful; the
+threshold is the place of expectation. The boy stands astonished,
+his impressions guide him; he learns sportfully, seriousness comes
+on him by surprise. Imitation is born with us; what should be
+imitated is not easy to discover. The excellent is rarely found,
+more rarely valued. The height charms us, the steps to it do
+not; with the summit in our eye, we love to walk along the
+plain. It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist
+needs it all. Who knows it half, speaks much and is always
+wrong; who knows it wholly, inclines to act and speaks seldom
+or late. The former have no secrets and no force; the instruction
+they can give is like baked bread, savory and satisfying for
+a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and seed corn ought not
+to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the best. The
+best is not to be explained by words. The spirit in which we act
+is the highest matter. Action can be understood and again represented
+by the spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing
+while he acts aright; but of what is wrong we are always conscious.
+Whoever works with symbols only is a pedant, a hypocrite,
+or a bungler. There are many such, and they like to be
+together. Their babbling detains the scholar; their obstinate
+mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which the true
+artist gives us opens the mind; for where words fail him, deeds
+speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the
+unknown, and approaches more and more to being a master.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 6439]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_HARPERS_SONGS" id="THE_HARPERS_SONGS"></a>THE HARPER'S SONGS</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What notes are those without the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Across the portal sounding?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let's have the music in our hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Back from its roof rebounding."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So spoke the king: the henchman flies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His answer heard, the monarch cries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Bring in that ancient minstrel."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hail, gracious king, each noble knight!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each lovely dame, I greet you!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What glittering stars salute my sight!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What heart unmoved may meet you!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such lordly pomp is not for me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far other scenes my eyes must see:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet deign to list my harping."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The singer turns him to his art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A thrilling strain he raises;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each warrior hears with glowing heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on his loved one gazes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king, who liked his playing well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commands, for such a kindly spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A golden chain be given him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The golden chain give not to me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy boldest knight may wear it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who 'cross the battle's purple sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On lion breast may bear it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or let it be thy chancellor's prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its yellow glance will please him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I sing but as the linnet sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That on the green bough dwelleth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rich reward his music brings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As from his throat it swelleth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One sparkling draught of purest wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To drink it here before you."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He viewed the wine, he quaffed it up:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"O draught of sweetest savor!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 6440]</a></span><span class="i0">O happy house, where such a cup<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is thought a little favor!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If well you fare, remember me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As now for this I thank you."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who never ate his bread in sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who never spent the darksome hours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weeping and watching for the morrow,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To guilt ye let us heedless go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then leave repentance fierce to wring us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A moment's guilt, an age of woe!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="MIGNONS_SONG" id="MIGNONS_SONG"></a>MIGNON'S SONG</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such let me seem, till such I be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Take not my snow-white dress away!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon from this dusk of earth I flee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Up to the glittering lands of day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There first a little space I rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In earthly robes no longer drest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This band, this girdle left behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And those calm shining sons of morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They ask not who is maid or boy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No robes, no garments there are worn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our body pure from sin's alloy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through little life not much I toiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet anguish long this heart has wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untimely woe my blossoms spoiled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Make me again forever young!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 6441]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="PHILINAS_SONG" id="PHILINAS_SONG"></a>PHILINA'S SONG</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing me not with such emotion<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How the night so lonesome is;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pretty maids, I've got a notion<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It is the reverse of this.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For as wife and man are plighted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the better half the wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So is night to day united,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Night's the better half of life.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can you joy in bustling daytime,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Day, when none can get his will?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is good for work, for haytime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For much other it is ill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when in the nightly glooming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Social lamp on table glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Face for faces dear illuming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And such jest and joyance goes;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the fiery pert young fellow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wont by day to run or ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispering now some tale would tell O,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All so gentle by your side;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the nightingale to lovers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lovingly her songlet sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which for exiles and sad rovers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like mere woe and wailing rings;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With a heart how lightsome-feeling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Do ye count the kindly clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, twelve times deliberate pealing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tells you none to-night shall knock!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Therefore, on all fit occasions,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mark it, maidens, what I sing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every day its own vexations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the night its joys will bring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 6442]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="PROMETHEUS" id="PROMETHEUS"></a>PROMETHEUS</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Blacken thy heavens, Jove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With thunder-clouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And exercise thee, like a boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Who thistles crops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With smiting oaks and mountain-tops:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Yet must leave me standing<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">My own firm earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must leave my cottage, which thou didst not build,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And my warm hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Whose cheerful glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou enviest me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">I know naught more pitiful<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Under the sun, than you, gods!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Ye nourish scantily<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With altar taxes<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And with cold lip-service,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">This your majesty;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Would perish, were not<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Children and beggars<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Credulous fools.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">When I was a child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And knew not whence or whither,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I would turn my 'wildered eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the sun, as if up yonder were<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">An ear to hear to my complaining&mdash;A<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">heart, like mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the oppressed to feel compassion.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Who helped me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When I braved the Titans' insolence?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Who rescued me from death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From slavery?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hast thou not all thyself accomplished,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Holy-glowing heart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And, glowing, young, and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Most ignorantly thanked<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The slumberer above there?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">I honor thee! For what?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hast thou the miseries lightened<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of the down-trodden?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 6443]</a></span><span class="i2">Hast thou the tears ever banished<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From the afflicted?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Have I not to manhood been molded<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">By omnipotent Time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And by Fate everlasting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">My lords and thine?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Dreamedst thou ever<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I should grow weary of living,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And fly to the desert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Since not all our<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Pretty dream buds ripen?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Here sit I, fashion men<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In mine own image,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">A race to be like me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To weep and to suffer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To be happy and enjoy themselves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To be careless of <i>thee</i> too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">As I!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of John S. Dwight.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="WANDERERS_NIGHT_SONGS" id="WANDERERS_NIGHT_SONGS"></a>WANDERER'S NIGHT SONGS</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou that from the heavens art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every pain and sorrow stillest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the doubly wretched heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Doubly with refreshment fillest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am weary with contending!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Why this rapture and unrest?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Peace descending,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Come, ah come into my breast!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">O'er all the hill-tops<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Is quiet now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In all the tree-tops<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Hearest thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hardly a breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The birds are asleep in the trees:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wait; soon like these<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou too shalt rest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Longfellow's Translation. Reprinted by permission of Houghton, Mifflin &amp;
+Co., publishers, Boston</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 6444]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_ELFIN-KING" id="THE_ELFIN-KING"></a>THE ELFIN-KING</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who rides so late through the midnight blast?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis a father spurs on with his child full fast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He gathers the boy well into his arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He clasps him close and he keeps him warm.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Father, dost thou not see the elfin-king?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The elfin-king with his crown and train!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My son, 'tis a streak of the misty rain!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>"Come hither, thou darling, come, go with me!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Fine games I know that I'll play with thee;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Flowers many and bright do my kingdoms hold,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>My mother has many a robe of gold."</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O father, dear father, and dost thou not hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What the elfin-king whispers so low in mine ear?"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Calm, calm thee, my boy, it is only the breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As it rustles the withered leaves under the trees."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>"Wilt thou go, bonny boy, wilt thou go with me?</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>My daughters shall wait on thee daintily;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>My daughters around thee in dance shall sweep,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And rock thee and kiss thee and sing thee to sleep."</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O father, dear father, and dost thou not mark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The elf-king's daughters move by in the dark?"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I see it, my child; but it is not they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis the old willow nodding its head so gray."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>"I love thee! thy beauty it charms me so;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And I'll take thee by force, if thou wilt not go!"</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O father, dear father, he's grasping me,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart is as cold as cold can be!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The father rides swiftly,&mdash;with terror he gasps,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sobbing child in his arms he clasps;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He reaches the castle with spurring and dread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But alack! in his arms the child lay dead!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Martin and Aytoun.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 6445]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="FROM_THE_WANDERERS_STORM_SONG" id="FROM_THE_WANDERERS_STORM_SONG"></a>FROM 'THE WANDERER'S STORM SONG'</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Neither blinding rain nor storm<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Breathes upon his heart a chill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To the lowering clouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To the beating hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">He will sing cheerly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">As the lark there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou that soarest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Him thou'lt lift o'er miry places<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">On thy flaming pinions:<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">He will traverse<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">As on feet of flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Slime of Deucalion's deluge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Slaying Python, strong, great,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Pythius Apollo!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wilt spread thy downy wings beneath him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">When he sleeps upon the crags;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wilt cover him with guardian pinions<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the midnight forest depths.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thou wilt in whirling snow-storm<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Warmly wrap him round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To the warmth fly the Muses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To the warmth fly the Graces.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">Around me float, ye Muses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And float, ye Graces!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">This is water, this is earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the son of water and of earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Over whom I wander<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Like the gods.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">You are pure like the heart of water,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">You are pure like the core of earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">You float around me, and I float<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Over water, over earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Like the gods.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Charles Harvey Genung.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 6446]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_GODLIKE" id="THE_GODLIKE"></a>THE GODLIKE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Noble be Man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helpful and good!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth distinguish him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From all the beings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which we know.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail to the Unknown, the<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Higher Beings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Felt within us!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His pattern teach us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faith in them!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For unfeeling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is Nature:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still shineth the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over good and evil:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the sinner<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smile, as to the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon and the stars.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wind and waters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thunder and hailstones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rustle on their way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiting down as<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They dash along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One for another.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Just so does Fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grope round in the crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seize now the innocent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curly-haired boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now on the old, bald<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crown of the villain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By great adamantine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laws everlasting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here we must all our<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round of existence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faithfully finish.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There can none but Man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perform the Impossible.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He understandeth,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 6447]</a></span><span class="i0">Chooseth, and judgeth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He can impart to the<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moment duration.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He alone may<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Good reward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Guilty punish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mend and deliver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the wayward, anomalous<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bind in the Useful.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the Immortals&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them we reverence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if they were men, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did, on a grand scale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What the best man in little<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does, or fain would do.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let noble Man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be helpful and good!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever creating<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Right and the Useful&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Type of those loftier<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beings of whom the heart whispers!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of John S. Dwight.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="SOLITUDE" id="SOLITUDE"></a>SOLITUDE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grant unto each whatsoever he may in silence desire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of E. A. Bowring.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 6448]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="ERGO" id="ERGO"></a>ERGO BIBAMUS!</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So, brethren, sing Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Remember then, Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A glorious Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And bethought me of Ergo bibamus;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While I helped myself, thinking, Bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the comforting Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am called by my fate far away from each friend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ye loved ones, then, Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So double our Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whatever to his treasure the niggard may add,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So, brethren, sing: Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I thought but of Ergo bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So again and again sing Bibamus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While we thunder our Ergo bibamus.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of E. A. Bowring.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 6449]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="ALEXIS_AND_DORA" id="ALEXIS_AND_DORA"></a>ALEXIS AND DORA</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Farther and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-covered flood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long is the track plowed up by the keel where dolphins are sporting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forward presses the heart of each seaman, like colors and streamers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Backward one only is seen, mournfully fixed near the mast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on the blue-tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he gazeth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vanished from thee, too, O Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of thine Alexis, thy friend,&mdash;ah, thy betroth&egrave;d as well!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain.  Our hearts are still throbbing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every day which had else coldly from memory fled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Life such as deities grant, though thou perceiv&egrave;dst it not.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ph&#339;bus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there in the silence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Strive to recover the time when she appeared with each day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Worked not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladdened,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, O Amor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,&mdash;wherefore remove it so late?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favoring breezes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye all vanish, and naught, saving the moment, remains.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes! it remains,&mdash;my joy still remains! I hold thee, my Dora,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclosed.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 6450]</a></span><span class="i0">Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then was revealed thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft have I feared that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet it ever remained firm on the circular cloth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, fair neighbor, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne'er crossed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All were now in movement: a boy to the house of my father<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ran at full speed and exclaimed, "Hasten thee quick to the strand!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is fluttering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, Alexis, oh come!"&mdash;My worthy stout-hearted father<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pressed, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-locked head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While my mother carefully reached me a newly made bundle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Happy mayst thou return!" cried they&mdash;"both happy and rich!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then, "Alexis!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foreign coasts wilt thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring me also, I pray thee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oft have I wished to possess some such a trinket as that."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There I remained, and asked, as merchants are wont, with precision<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After the form and the weight which thy commission should have.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Modest indeed was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On thy neck, which deserved ornaments worn but by queens.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beareth no fruit, and in truth, 'tis not produced by each land."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 6451]</a></span><span class="i0">Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into thy hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Presently didst thou reach the arbor; there lay there a basket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet blooming myrtle-trees waved, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">First the orange, which heavy as though 'twere of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigured,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And with myrtle, the gift soon was both covered and graced.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kissed I thy neck.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting a rapturous pair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amor's hands I felt; he pressed us together with ardor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Streamed from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were weeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seemed to die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Louder and louder they called from the strand; my feet would no longer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bear my weight, and I cried:&mdash;"Dora! and art thou not mine?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were shedding<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seemed to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Suddenly peeped through the door.  How he the basket snatched up!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How he urged me away! how pressed I thy hand! Dost thou ask me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How the vessel I reached? Drunken I seemed, well I know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscured.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thine forever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood his daughter, the goddess of Love; the Graces were standing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favoring zephyr!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring me unto the foreign harbor, so that the goldsmith<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, O my Dora!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwined.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 6452]</a></span><span class="i0">Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Be to the jacinth opposed, seeming its foil; while the gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betrothed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fine and woolen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Me, and thyself, and perchance even a third with it too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly immortals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When in their stead, Care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their barking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far away: of a truth, open the garden door stands!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And for him also the fig strengthening honey doth yield!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth she entice him as well to the arbor? He follows? Oh, make me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yield, to another erelong, doubtless, will turn herself round.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thunder more fearfully! Strike!&mdash;Stay&mdash;thy fierce lightnings withhold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All these wares, and let <i>me</i> be to the dolphins a prey!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of E. A. Bowring.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 6453]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="MAXIMS" id="MAXIMS"></a>MAXIMS AND REFLECTIONS</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Maxims and Reflections of Goethe.' Translation of Bailey Saunders. Copyright 1892, by Macmillan &amp; Co.</h4>
+
+<p>It is not always needful for truth to take a definite shape: it is
+enough if it hovers about us like a spirit and produces harmony;
+if it is wafted through the air like the sound of a
+bell, grave and kindly.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>I must hold it for the greatest calamity of our time, which
+lets nothing come to maturity, that one moment is consumed by
+the next, and the day spent in the day; so that a man is always
+living from hand to mouth, without having anything to show for
+it. Have we not already newspapers for every hour of the day?
+A good head could assuredly intercalate one or other of them.
+They publish abroad everything that every one does, or is busy
+with or meditating; nay, his very designs are thereby dragged
+into publicity. No one can rejoice or be sorry, but as a pastime
+for others; and so it goes on from house to house, from city to
+city, from kingdom to kingdom, and at last from one hemisphere
+to the other,&mdash;all in post-haste.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>During a prolonged study of the lives of various men both
+great and small, I came upon this thought: In the web of the
+world the one may well be regarded as the warp, the other as
+the woof. It is the little men, after all, who give breadth to the
+web, and the great men firmness and solidity; perhaps also the
+addition of some sort of pattern. But the scissors of the Fates
+determine its length, and to that all the rest must join in submitting
+itself.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>There is nothing more odious than the majority: it consists
+of a few powerful men to lead the way; of accommodating rascals
+and submissive weaklings; and of a mass of men who trot
+after them without in the least knowing their own mind.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>Translators are like busy match-makers: they sing the praises
+of some half-veiled beauty, and extol her charms, and arouse an
+irresistible longing for the original.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 6454]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="NATURE" id="NATURE"></a>NATURE</h3>
+
+
+<p>Nature! We are surrounded by her and locked in her clasp:
+powerless to leave her, and powerless to come closer to
+her. Unasked and unwarned she takes us up into the
+whirl of her dance, and hurries on with us till we are weary
+and fall from her arms.</p>
+
+<p>There is constant life in her, motion and development; and
+yet she remains where she was. She is eternally changing, nor
+for a moment does she stand still. Of rest she knows nothing,
+and to all stagnation she has affixed her curse. She is steadfast;
+her step is measured, her exceptions rare, her laws immutable.</p>
+
+<p>She loves herself, and clings eternally to herself with eyes
+and hearts innumerable. She has divided herself that she may
+be her own delight. She is ever making new creatures spring
+up to delight in her, and imparts herself insatiably.</p>
+
+<p>She rejoices in illusion. If a man destroys this in himself
+and others, she punishes him like the hardest tyrant. If he follows
+her in confidence, she presses him to her heart as it were
+her child.</p>
+
+<p>She spurts forth her creatures out of nothing, and tells them
+not whence they come and whither they go. They have only to
+go their way: she knows the path.</p>
+
+<p>Her crown is Love. Only through Love can we come near
+her. She puts gulfs between all things, and all things strive to
+be interfused. She isolates everything, that she may draw everything
+together. With a few draughts from the cup of Love she
+repays for a life full of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>She is all things. She rewards herself and punishes herself,
+and in herself rejoices and is distressed. She is rough and gentle,
+loving and terrible, powerless and almighty. In her everything
+is always present. Past or Future she knows not. The
+Present is her Eternity. She is kind. I praise her with all her
+works. She is wise and still. No one can force her to explain
+herself, or frighten her into a gift that she does not give willingly.
+She is crafty, but for a good end; and it is best not to
+notice her cunning.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 6455]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="GOGOL" id="GOGOL"></a>NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL</h2>
+
+<h4>(1809-1852)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</h4>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capg.png" width="90" height="90" alt="G" title="G" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">ogol has been called the "father of modern Russian realism,"
+and he has been credited with the creation of all the types
+which we meet in the great novelists who followed him.
+This is in great measure true, especially so far as the male characters
+are concerned. The germs at least, if not the condensed characterization
+in full, are recognizable in Gogol's famous novel 'Dead
+Souls,' his Little-Russian stories 'Tales from a Farm-House near
+Dikanka' and 'Mirgorod,' and his comedy 'The Inspector,' which
+still holds the stage.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/gogol.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Nikolai Gogol" title="Nikolai Gogol" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Nikolai Gogol</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was precisely because of his genius
+in seizing the national types that the poet
+Pushkin, one of Gogol's earliest and warmest
+admirers, gave to him the plans of
+'Dead Souls' and 'The Inspector,' which
+he had intended to make use of himself.
+That he became the "father of Russian
+realism" was due not only to his own genius,
+but to the epoch in which he lived,
+though he solved the problem for himself
+quite independently of the Continental
+literatures which were undergoing the same
+process of transformation from romanticism
+to realism. For, nearly a hundred years
+before Gogol and his foreign contemporaries of the forties&mdash;the pioneers,
+in their respective countries, of the new literature&mdash;won the
+public, Europe had been living a sort of modern epic. In imitation
+of the ancient epics, writers portrayed heroes of gigantic powers in
+every direction, and set them in a framework of exceptional crises
+which aroused their powerful emotions in the cause of right, or their
+superhuman conflict with masterful persons or overwhelming woes.
+But the daily experience of those who suffered from the manifold
+miseries of battle and invasion in this modern epic epoch, made it
+impossible for them to disregard longer the claim on their sympathies
+of the common things and people of their world, though these
+can very easily be ignored when one reads the ancient epics. Thus
+did realism have its dawn in many lands when the era of peace gave
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 6456]</a></span>
+men time to define their position, and when pseudo-classicism had
+at last palled on their taste, which had begun to recognize its coldness
+and inherent falsity.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, in this new quest of Truth, romanticism and realism
+were mingled at first. This was the case with Gogol-Yanovsky, to
+give him his full name. But he soon struck out in the right path.
+He was born and reared in Little Russia, at Sorotchinsky, government
+of Poltava. He was separated by only two generations from
+the epoch of the Zaporozhian Kazak army, whose life he has recorded
+in his famous historical novel 'Taras Bulba,' his grandfather having
+been regimental scribe of the Kazaks, an office of honor. The spirit
+of the Zaporozhian Kazaks still lingered over the land, which was
+overflowing with legends, and with fervent, childlike piety of the
+superstitious order. At least one half of the Little-Russian stories
+which made Gogol's fame he owes to his grandfather, who appears
+as Rudiy Panko the Bee-Farmer, in the 'Tales from a Farm-House
+near Dikanka.' His father, who represented the modern spirit, was
+an inimitable narrator of comic stories, and the talents of this father
+and grandfather rendered their house the social centre of a very
+wide neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>At school Gogol did not distinguish himself in his studies, but
+wrote a great deal, all of an imitative character, and got up school
+plays in emulation of those which he had seen at his own home.
+His lack of scholarship made it impossible for him to pursue the
+learned career of professor of history, on which he embarked after
+he had with labor obtained, and shortly renounced, the career of
+copying-clerk in St. Petersburg. His vast but dimly defined ambition
+to accomplish great things for his fatherland in some mysterious
+way, and fame for himself, equally suffered shipwreck to his mind;
+though if we consider the part which the realistic literature he
+founded has played on the world's stage, we may count his apparent
+defeat a solid victory. His brief career as professor of history at the
+university was brought about by his ambition, and through the influence
+of the literary men whose friendship he had won by his first
+'Little-Russian Tales.' They recognized his genius, and at last he
+himself recognized that the new style of writing which he had created
+was his vocation, and devoted himself wholly to literature. At
+the close of 1831 the first volume of 'Tales from a Farm-House'
+appeared, and had an immense success. The second volume, 'Mirgorod,
+followed, with equal success. It contained a new element: the
+merriment of the first volume had been pure, unmixed; in the second
+volume he had developed not only the realism but that special trait
+of his genius, "laughter piercing through a mist of tears," of which
+'Old-Fashioned Gentry' and 'How the Two Ivans Quarreled' offer
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 6457]</a></span>
+celebrated examples. But success always flew to Gogol's head: he
+immediately began to despise these products of his true vocation, and
+to plan grandiose projects far beyond his powers of education and
+entirely outside the range of his talent. Now, for instance, he undertook
+a colossal work in nine volumes on the history of the Middle
+Ages. Happily, he abandoned that, after his studies of Little-Russian
+history incidental thereto had resulted in his epic of the highest art,
+'Taras Bulba.'</p>
+
+<p>The first outcome of his recognition that literary work was his
+moral duty, not a mere pastime, was his great play 'The Inspector.'
+It was produced in April, 1836. The authorities steadfastly opposed
+its production; but the Emperor Nicholas I. heard of it, read it,
+ordered it produced, and upheld Gogol in enthusiastic delight. Officials,
+merchants, police, literary people, everybody, attacked the
+author. They had laughed at his pathos; now they raged at his
+comedy, refused to recognize their own portraits, and still tried to
+have the play prohibited. Gogol's health and spirits were profoundly
+affected by this unexpected enmity. He fled abroad, and returned to
+Russia thereafter only at intervals for brief visits, and chiefly to Moscow,
+where most of his faithful friends lived. He traveled much, but
+spent most of his time in Rome, where his lavish charities kept him
+always poor, even after the complete success of 'The Inspector' and
+of the first part of 'Dead Souls' would have enabled him to exist in
+comfort. He was accustomed to say that he could only see Russia
+clearly when he was far from her, and in a measure he proved this
+by his inimitable first volume of 'Dead Souls.' Herein he justified
+Pushkin's expectations in giving him that subject which would enable
+him to paint, in types, the classes and localities of his fatherland.
+But this long residence in Rome was fatal to his mind and health, and
+eventually extinguished the last sparks of genius. The Russian mind
+is peculiarly inclined to mysticism, and Russian writers of eminence
+seem to be even more susceptible in that direction than ordinary men.
+Of the noted writers in this century, Pushkin and Lermontoff had
+leaned decidedly in that direction towards the end of their careers,
+brief as their lives were. Gogol was their intimate friend in Russia,
+and after he went abroad he was the intimate friend of the aged
+poet Zhukovsky, who became a mystic in his declining years.</p>
+
+<p>Even in his school days Gogol had shown, in his letters to his
+mother, a marked tendency to religious exaltation. Now, under the
+combined pressure of his personal inclinations, friendships, and the
+clerical atmosphere of Rome, he developed into a mystic and ascetic
+of the most pronounced type. In this frame of mind, he looked upon
+all his earlier writings as sins which must be atoned for; and yet
+his immense self-esteem was so flattered by the tremendous success
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 6458]</a></span>
+of 'The Inspector' and of the first part of 'Dead Souls,' that he
+began to regard himself as a kind of divinely commissioned prophet,
+whose duty it was to exhort his fellow-men. The extract from these
+hortatory letters to his friends which he published convinced his
+countrymen that nothing more was to be expected from him. The
+failure of this volume only helped to plunge him into deeper depths of
+self-torture. In the few remaining lucid moments of his genius he
+worked at the second part of 'Dead Souls,' but destroyed what he
+had written in the moments of ecstatic remorse which followed.
+Thus the greatest work of his mature genius remains uncompleted.
+In 1848 he made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and returned through
+Odessa to Moscow, where he lived until his death, growing constantly
+more mystical, more ascetic. Sleepless nights spent in prayer, fasting
+to the extent of trying to nourish himself (as it is affirmed that
+practiced ascetics successfully can) for a week on one of the tiny
+double loaves which are used in the Holy Communion, completed the
+ravages of his long-endured maladies.</p>
+
+<p>It was for publishing in a Moscow paper an enthusiastic obituary
+of the dead genius, which he had been forbidden to publish in St.
+Petersburg, that Turg&eacute;nieff was sent into residence on his estate, and
+enriched the world with the first work of the rising genius, 'The
+Diary of a Sportsman.' Acuteness of observation; natural, infectious,
+genuine humor; vivid realism; and an inimitable power of depicting
+national types, are Gogol's distinguishing characteristics: and these
+in varying degrees are precisely the ingredients which have entered
+into the works of his successors and rendered Russian literature
+famous as a school.</p>
+
+<p>In reviewing Gogol's work, we may set aside with but cursory
+mention his youthful idyl, written while still in the gymnasium, published
+anonymously and overwhelmed with ridicule, 'Hans Kuchel-garten';
+his 'Arabesques,' which are useful chiefly as a contribution
+to the study of the man and his opinions, not as permanent additions
+to literature; his 'Extracts from Correspondence with Friends,' which
+belong to the sermonizing, clouded period of his life's close; and the
+divers 'Fragments,' both of prose and dramatic writing, all of which
+are conscientiously included in the complete editions of his writings.</p>
+
+<p>The only complete play which he wrote except 'The Inspector'
+is the comedy 'Marriage,' which is still acted, though very seldom.
+It is full of naturalness and his own peculiar humor, but its subject
+does not appeal to the universal public of all lands as nearly as does
+the plan of 'The Inspector.' The plot, in brief, is founded on a
+young girl's meditations on marriage, and her actions which lead up
+to and follow those meditations. The Heroine, desirous of marrying,
+invokes the aid of the Match-maker, the old-time matrimonial agent
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 6459]</a></span>
+in the Russian merchant and peasant classes by conventional etiquette.
+The Match-maker offers for her consideration several suitable
+men, all strangers; the Heroine makes her choice, and is very well
+content with her suitor. But she begins to meditate on the future,
+becomes moved to tears by the thought of her daughter's possible
+unhappiness in a hypothetical wretched marriage in the dim future,
+and at last, unable to endure this painful prospect, she evades her
+betrothed and breaks off the match. While the characteristic and
+national touches are keen and true,&mdash;precursors of the vein which
+Ostrovsky so happily developed later,&mdash;the play must remain a matter
+of greater interest to Russians than to foreigners.</p>
+
+<p>The interest of 'The Inspector,' on the other hand, is universal:
+official negligence and corruption, bribery, masculine boastfulness and
+vanity, and feminine qualities to correspond, are the private prerogatives
+of no one nation, of no one epoch. The comedy possesses all
+the elements of social portraiture and satire without caricature:
+concentration of time, place, action, language, and a tremendous condensation
+of character traits which are not only truly, typically national,
+but which come within the ken of all fair-minded persons in other
+countries.</p>
+
+<p>The volume with which he scored his first success, and which
+must remain a classic, is 'Evenings at a Farm-House near Dikanka.'
+As the second volume, 'Mirgorod,' and his volume of 'St. Petersburg
+Tales,' all combine essentially the same ingredients, though in varying
+measure, we may consider them together. All the tales in the
+first two volumes are from his beloved birthplace, Little Russia.
+Some of them are simply the artistic and literary rendering of popular
+legends, whose counterparts may be found in the folk literature
+of other lands. Such are the story of the vampire, 'Vy,' 'St. John's
+Eve,' and the exquisite 'A May Night,' where the famous poetical
+spirit of the Ukraina is displayed in its full force and beauty. 'The
+Lost Document,' 'Sorotchinsky Fair,' 'The Enchanted Spot,' and
+others of like legendary but more exclusively national character, show
+the same fertility of wit and skill of management, with close study
+of every-day customs, superstitions, and life, which render them invaluable
+to both Russians and foreigners.</p>
+
+<p>More important than these, however, are such stories as 'Old-Fashioned
+Gentry' (or 'Farmers'), where keen but kindly wit, more
+tempered than the mirth of youthful high spirits which had imbued
+the fantastic tales, is mingled with the purest, deepest pathos and
+minute delineation of character and customs, in an inimitable work of
+the highest art. To this category belong also 'How the Two Ivans
+Quarreled' (the full title, 'How Ivan Ivan'itch and Ivan Nikifor'itch
+Quarreled,' is rather unwieldy for the foreign ear), and 'The Cloak,'
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 6460]</a></span>
+from the volume of 'St. Petersburg Tales.' We may also count 'The
+Nevsky Prospekt' with these; while 'The Portrait' is semi-fantastic,
+'The Nose' and 'The Calash' are wholly so, though not legendary,
+and 'The Diary of a Madman' is unexcelled as an amusing but touching
+study of a diseased mind in the ranks of petty officialdom.</p>
+
+<p>Gogol's capital work, however, is his 'Dead Souls.' In it he carried
+to its highest point his talent for accurate delineation of his
+countrymen and the conditions of their life. There is less pathos
+than in some of his short tales; but all the other elements are perfected.
+Pushkin's generosity and sound judgment were never better
+shown than in the gift which he made to Gogol of the plan of this
+book. He could not have executed it himself as well. The work
+must forever rank as a Russian classic; it ought to rank as a universal
+classic. The types are as fresh, true, and vivid to one who knows
+the Russia of to-day as they were when they were first introduced to
+the enthusiastic public of 1842.</p>
+
+<p>In the pre-Emancipation days, a soul meant a male serf. The
+women were not counted in the periodical revisions, though the working
+unit, a <i>tyaglo</i>, consisted of a man, his wife, and his horse&mdash;the
+indispensable trinity to agricultural labor. In the interval between
+the revisions, a landed proprietor continued to pay for all the serfs
+accredited to him on the official list, the births being reckoned for
+convenience as an exact offset to the deaths. Another provision
+of the law was, that no one should purchase serfs without the land
+to which they belonged, except for the purpose of colonization. An
+ingenious fraud suggested by a combination of these two laws forms
+the foundation of 'Dead Souls.' The hero, Tchitchikoff, is an official
+who has struggled up ambitiously and shrewdly, through numerous
+vicissitudes of bribe-taking, extortion, and ensuing discomfiture, to
+a snug berth in the custom-house service, from which he is ejected
+under circumstances which render further flights difficult if not impossible.
+In this strait he hits upon the idea of purchasing from
+landed proprietors of mediocre probity the souls who are dead,
+though still nominally alive, and on whom they are forced to pay
+taxes. Land is being given away gratuitously, in the southern governments
+of Kherson and Tauris, to any one who will settle upon it,
+as every one knows. His plan is to buy one thousand non-existent
+serfs ("dead souls"), at a maximum of one hundred rubles apiece,
+for colonization on an equally non-existent estate in the south, and
+then, by mortgaging them to the loan bank for the nobility known
+as the Council of Guardians, obtain a capital of two hundred thousand
+rubles. In pursuance of this clever scheme he sets out on his
+travels, visits provincial towns and the estates of landed gentry of
+every shade of character, dishonesty, and financial standing, where
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 6461]</a></span>
+he either buys for a song, or cajoles from them as a gift, large
+numbers of "dead souls." It is unnecessary and impossible to do more
+than reinforce the hint which this statement contains, by the assurance
+that Gogol used to the uttermost the magnificent opportunity
+thus afforded him of showing up Russian life and manners. Though
+the scene of Tchitchikoff's wanderings does not include either capital,
+the life there does not escape the author's notice in his asides and
+illustrative arguments. It may also be said that while his talent lies
+pre-eminently in the delineation of men, he does not fail in his portraits
+of women; though as a rule these are more general&mdash;in the
+nature of a composite photograph&mdash;than particular. The day for minute
+analysis of feminine character had not arrived, and in all Gogol's
+works there is, properly speaking, no such thing as the heroine playing
+a first-class r&ocirc;le, whether of the antique or the modern pattern.</p>
+
+<p>Gogol's great historical novel, 'Taras Bulba,' which deals with the
+famous Kazak republic of the Dniepr Falls (Zapor&oacute;zhya), stands
+equally with his other volumes of the first rank in poetry, dramatic
+power, and truth to life. It possesses also a force of tragedy and
+passion in love which are altogether lacking, or but faintly indicated,
+in his other masterpieces.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 458px;">
+<img src="images/sign231.png" width="458" height="135" alt="Isabel F. Hapgood" title="Isabel F. Hapgood" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FROM_THE_INSPECTOR" id="FROM_THE_INSPECTOR"></a>FROM 'THE INSPECTOR'</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Scene: A room in the house of the Chief of Police.<br /><br />
+Present: Chief of Police, Curator of Benevolent Institutions, Superintendent of Schools,
+Judge, Commissary of Police, Doctor, two Policemen.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;I have summoned you, gentlemen, in order to communicate
+to you an unpleasant piece of news: an Inspector
+is coming.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;What! An Inspector?</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;An Inspector from St. Petersburg, incognito. And
+with secret orders, to boot.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;I thought so!</p>
+
+<p><i>Curator</i>&mdash;If there's not trouble, then I'm mistaken!</p>
+
+<p><i>Superintendent</i>&mdash;Heavens! And with secret orders, too!</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;I foresaw it: all last night I was dreaming of two
+huge rats; I never saw such rats: they were black, and of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 6462]</a></span>
+supernatural size! They came, and smelled, and went away.
+I will read you the letter I have received from Andrei Ivan'itch
+Tchorikoff,&mdash;whom you know, Artemiy Philip'itch. This is what
+he writes:&mdash;"Dear friend, gossip and benefactor!" [<i>Mutters in
+an undertone, as he runs his eye quickly over it.</i>] "I hasten to
+inform you, among other things, that an official has arrived with
+orders to inspect the entire government, and our district in
+particular." [<i>Raises his finger significantly.</i>] "I have heard this
+from trustworthy people, although he represents himself as a
+private individual. As I know that you are not quite free from
+faults, since you are a sensible man, and do not like to let slip
+what runs into your hands&mdash;" [<i>Pauses.</i>] Well, here are some
+remarks about his own affairs&mdash;"so I advise you to be on your
+guard: for he may arrive at any moment, if he is not already
+arrived and living somewhere incognito. Yesterday&mdash;" Well,
+what follows is about family matters&mdash;"My sister Anna Kirilovna
+has come with her husband; Ivan Kirilitch has grown
+very fat, and still plays the violin&mdash;" and so forth, and so forth.
+So there you have the whole matter.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;Yes, the matter is so unusual, so remarkable; something
+unexpected.</p>
+
+<p><i>Superintendent</i>&mdash;And why? Anton Anton'itch, why is this?
+Why is the Inspector coming hither?</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i> [<i>sighs</i>]&mdash;Why? Evidently, it is fate. [<i>Sighs.</i>] Up to
+this time, God be praised, they have attended to other towns;
+now our turn has come.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;I think, Anton Anton'itch, that there is some fine
+political cause at the bottom of this. This means something:
+Russia&mdash;yes&mdash;Russia wants to go to war, and the minister, you
+see, has sent an official to find out whether there is any treason.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;What's got hold of him? A sensible man, truly!
+Treason in a provincial town! Is it a border town&mdash;is it, now?
+Why, you could ride away from here for three years and not
+reach any other kingdom.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;No, I tell you. You don't&mdash;you don't&mdash;The government
+has subtle reasons; no matter if it is out of the way,
+they don't care for that.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Whether they care or not, I have warned you, gentlemen.
+See to it! I have made some arrangements in my own
+department, and I advise you to do the same. Especially you,
+Artemiy Philip'itch! Without doubt, this traveling official will
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 6463]</a></span>
+wish first of all to inspect your institutions&mdash;and therefore you
+must arrange things so that they will be decent. The nightcaps
+should be clean, and the sick people should not look like blacksmiths,
+as they usually do in private.</p>
+
+<p><i>Curator</i>&mdash;Well, that's a mere trifle. We can put clean nightcaps
+on them.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;And then, you ought to have written up over the head
+of each bed, in Latin or some other language&mdash;that's your business&mdash;the
+name of each disease: when each patient was taken
+sick, the day and hour. It is not well that your sick people
+should smoke such strong tobacco that one has to sneeze every
+time he goes in there. Yes, and it would be better if there
+were fewer of them: it will be set down at once to bad supervision
+or to lack of skill on the doctor's part.</p>
+
+<p><i>Curator</i>&mdash;Oh! so far as the doctoring is concerned, Christian
+Ivan'itch and I have already taken measures: the nearer to nature
+the better,&mdash;we don't use any expensive medicines. Man is a
+simple creature: if he dies, why then he dies; if he gets well,
+why then he gets well. And then, it would have been difficult
+for Christian Ivan'itch to make them understand him&mdash;he doesn't
+know one word of Russian.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;I should also advise you, Ammos Feodor'itch, to turn
+your attention to court affairs. In the ante-room, where the
+clients usually assemble, your janitor has got a lot of geese and
+goslings, which waddle about under foot. Of course it is praiseworthy
+to be thrifty in domestic affairs, and why should not the
+janitor be so too? only, you know, it is not proper in that
+place. I meant to mention it to you before, but always forgot it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;I'll order them to be taken to the kitchen this very
+day. Will you come and dine with me?</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;And moreover, it is not well that all sorts of stuff
+should be put to dry in the court-room, and that over the very
+desk, with the documents, there should be a hunting-whip. I
+know that you are fond of hunting, but there is a proper time
+for everything, and you can hang it up there again when the
+Inspector takes his departure. And then your assistant&mdash;he's a
+man of experience, but there's a smell about him as though he
+had just come from a distillery&mdash;and that's not as it should
+be. I meant to speak to you about it long ago, but something, I
+don't recall now precisely what, put it out of my mind. There
+is a remedy, if he really was born with the odor, as he asserts:
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 6464]</a></span>
+you might advise him to eat onions or garlic or something. In
+that case, Christian Ivan'itch could assist you with some
+medicaments.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;No, it's impossible to drive it out: he says that his
+mother injured him when he was a child, and an odor of whisky
+has emanated from him ever since.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Yes, I just remarked on it. As for internal arrangements,
+and what Andrei Ivan'itch in his letter calls "faults," I
+can say nothing. Yes, and strange to say, there is no man who
+has not his faults. God himself arranged it so, and it is useless
+for the freethinkers to maintain the contrary.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;What do you mean by faults, Anton Anton'itch?
+There are various sorts of faults. I tell every one frankly that
+I take bribes; but what sort of bribes? greyhound pups. That's
+quite another thing.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Well, greyhound pups or anything else, it's all the
+same.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;Well, no, Anton Anton'itch. But for example, if some
+one has a fur coat worth five hundred rubles, and his wife has a
+shawl&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Well, and how about your taking greyhound pups as
+bribes? Why don't you trust in God? You never go to church.
+I am firm in the faith, at all events, and go to church every
+Sunday. But you&mdash;oh, I know you! If you begin to talk about
+the creation of the world, one's hair rises straight up on his head.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judge</i>&mdash;It came of itself, of its own accord.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Well, in some cases it is worse to have brains than
+to be entirely without them. Besides, I only just mentioned the
+district court: but to tell the truth, it is only very rarely that
+any one ever looks in there; 'tis such an enviable place that God
+himself protects it. And as for you, Luka Luk'itch, as superintendent
+of schools, you must bestir yourself with regard to the
+teachers. They are educated people, to be sure, and were reared
+at divers academies, but they have very peculiar ways which
+go naturally with that learned profession. One of them, for instance,
+the fat-faced one,&mdash;I don't recall his name,&mdash;cannot get
+along without making grimaces when he takes his seat;&mdash;like this
+[<i>makes a grimace</i>]: and then he begins to smooth his beard out
+from under his neckerchief, with his hand. In short, if he makes
+such faces at the scholars, there is nothing to be said: it must
+be necessary; I am no judge of that. But just consider&mdash;if he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 6465]</a></span>
+were to do that to a visitor it might be very unpleasant; the
+Inspector or any one else might take it as personal. The Devil
+knows what might come of it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Superintendent</i>&mdash;What am I to do with him? I have spoken
+to him about it several times already. A few days ago, when
+our chief went into the class-room, he made such a grimace as I
+never beheld before. He made it out of good-will; but it is a
+judgment on me, because freethinking is being inculcated in the
+young people.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;And I must also mention the teacher of history. He's
+a wise man, that's plain, and has acquired a great mass of learning;
+but he expresses himself with so much warmth that he loses
+control of himself. I heard him once: well, so long as he was
+talking about the Assyrians and Babylonians, it was all right;
+but when he got to Alexander of Macedon, I can't describe
+to you what came over him. I thought there was a fire, by
+heavens! He jumped from his seat and dashed his chair to the
+floor with all his might. Alexander of Macedon was a hero, no
+doubt; but why smash the chairs? There will be a deficit in
+the accounts, just as the result of that.</p>
+
+<p><i>Superintendent</i>&mdash;Yes, he is hasty! I have remarked on it to
+him several times. He says, "What would you have? I would
+sacrifice my life for science."</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Yes, such is the incomprehensible decree of fate: a
+learned man is always a drunkard, or else he makes faces that
+would scare the very saints.</p>
+
+<p><i>Superintendent</i>&mdash;God forbid that he should inspect the educational
+institutions. Everybody meddles and tries to show everybody
+else that he is a learned man.</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;That would be nothing: that cursed incognito! All
+of a sudden you hear&mdash;"Ah, here you are, my little dears! And
+who," says he, "is the Judge here?"&mdash;"Lyapkin-Tyapkin."&mdash;"And
+who is the Superintendent of the Hospital?"&mdash;"Zemlyanika!"
+That's the worst of it!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> Postmaster</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;Well, how do you feel, Ivan Kusmitch?</p>
+
+<p><i>Postmaster</i>&mdash;How do I feel? How do <i>you</i> feel, Anton Anton'itch?</p>
+
+<p><i>Chief</i>&mdash;How do I feel? I'm not afraid; and yet I am,&mdash;a little.
+The merchants and citizens cause me some anxiety. They
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 6466]</a></span>
+say I have been hard with them; but God knows, if I have ever
+taken anything from them it was not out of malice. I even
+think [<i>takes him by the arm and leads him aside</i>]&mdash;I even think
+there may be a sort of complaint against me. Why, in fact, is
+the Inspector coming to us? Listen, Ivan Kusmitch: why can't
+you&mdash;for our common good, you know&mdash;open every letter which
+passes through your office, going or coming, and read it, to see
+whether it contains a complaint or is simply correspondence? If
+it does not, then you can seal it up again. Besides, you could
+even deliver the letter unsealed.</p>
+
+<p><i>Postmaster</i>&mdash;I know, I know. You can't tell me anything
+about that; I always do it, not out of circumspection but out of
+curiosity: I'm deadly fond of knowing what is going on in the
+world. It's very interesting reading, I can tell you! It is a real
+treat to read some letters: they contain such descriptions of occurrences,
+and they're so improving&mdash;better than the Moscow News.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[The play proceeds: two men, the town busybodies, happen to find at
+the inn a traveler who has been living on credit and going nowhere for two
+weeks. The landlord is about to put his lodger in prison for debt, when these
+men jump to the conclusion that he is the Inspector. The Prefect and other
+terrified officials accept the suggestion, in spite of his plain statement as to
+his identity. They set about making the town presentable, entertain and
+bribe him, and bow down to him. He accepts their hospitality, asks loans,
+makes love to the Prefect's silly wife and daughter, betroths himself to the
+latter, receives the petitions and bribes of the oppressed townspeople,&mdash;and
+drives off with the best post-horses the town can furnish, ostensibly to ask the
+blessing of his rich old uncle on his marriage. The Postmaster intercepts a
+letter which he has written to a friend. Its revelations, and the ridicule which
+he therein casts on his hosts, open their eyes at last. At that moment a
+gendarme appears and announces that the Inspector has arrived. Tableau.]</p></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Isabel F.
+Hapgood</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="OLD-FASHIONED_GENTRY" id="OLD-FASHIONED_GENTRY"></a>OLD-FASHIONED GENTRY</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Mirgorod'</h4>
+
+<p>I am very fond of the modest life of those isolated owners of
+remote estates which are generally called "old-fashioned" in
+Little Russia, and which, like ruinous and picturesque houses,
+are beautiful through their simplicity and complete contrast to
+a new and regular building whose walls have never yet been
+washed by the rain, whose roof has not yet been overgrown with
+moss, and whose porch, still possessed of its stucco, does not yet
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 6467]</a></span>
+display its red bricks. I can still see the low-roofed little house,
+with its veranda of slender, blackened wooden columns, surrounding
+it on all sides, so that in case of a thunder-storm or a hail-storm
+you could close the window shutters without getting wet;
+behind it fragrant wild-cherry trees, row upon row of dwarf
+fruit-trees, overtopped by crimson cherries and a purple sea of
+plums, covered with a lead-colored bloom, luxuriant maples under
+whose shade rugs were spread for repose; in front of the house
+the spacious yard, with short fresh grass, through which paths
+had been worn from the storehouses to the kitchen, from the
+kitchen to the apartments of the family; a long-necked goose
+drinking water with her young goslings, soft as down; the picket
+fence festooned with bunches of dried apples and pears, and
+rugs hung out to air; a cart-load of melons standing near the
+store-house, the oxen unyoked and lying lazily beside it. All
+this has for me an indescribable charm,&mdash;perhaps because I no
+longer see it, and because anything from which we are separated
+pleases us.</p>
+
+<p>But more than all else, the owners of this distant nook,&mdash;an
+old man and old woman,&mdash;hastening eagerly out to meet me,
+gave me pleasure. Afanasy Ivanovitch Tovstogub and his wife,
+Pulkheria Ivanovna Tovstogubikha, according to the neighboring
+peasants' way of expressing it, were the old people of whom I
+began to speak. If I were a painter and wished to depict Philemon
+and Baucis on canvas, I could have found no better models
+than they. Afanasy Ivanovitch was sixty years old, Pulkheria
+Ivanovna was fifty-five. Afanasy Ivanovitch was tall, always wore
+a short sheepskin coat covered with camlet, sat all doubled up,
+and was almost always smiling, whether he were telling a story
+or only listening to one. Pulkheria Ivanovna was rather serious,
+and hardly ever laughed; but her face and eyes expressed so
+much goodness, so much eagerness to treat you to all the best
+they owned, that you would probably have found a smile too
+repelling on her kind face. The delicate wrinkles were so agreeably
+disposed on their countenances that an artist would certainly
+have appropriated them. It seemed as though in them you might
+read their whole life: the pure, peaceful life led by the old,
+patriotic, simple-hearted, and at the same time wealthy families,
+which always present a marked contrast to those baser Little-Russians
+who work up from tar-burners and peddlers, throng the
+court-rooms like grasshoppers, squeeze the last copper from their
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 6468]</a></span>
+fellow-countrymen, crowd Petersburg with scandal-mongers, finally
+acquire capital, and triumphantly add an <i>f</i> to their surnames
+which end in <i>o</i>. No, they did not resemble those despicable and
+miserable creatures, but all ancient and native Little-Russian
+families.</p>
+
+<p>They never had any children, so all their affection was concentrated
+on themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The rooms of the little house in which our old couple dwelt
+were small, low-ceiled, such as are generally to be seen with old-fashioned
+people. In each room stood a huge stove, which occupied
+nearly one-third of the space. These little rooms were
+frightfully hot, because both Afanasy Ivanovitch and Pulkheria
+Ivanovna were fond of heat. All their fuel was stored in the
+ante-room, which was always filled nearly to the ceiling with
+straw, which is generally used in Little Russia in place of wood.</p>
+
+<p>The chairs of the room were of wood, and massive, in the
+style which generally marked those of the olden times: all had
+high, turned backs of natural wood, without any paint or varnish;
+they were not even upholstered, and somewhat resembled
+those which are still used by bishops. Triangular tables stood in
+the corners, a square table stood in front of the sofa; and there
+was a large mirror in a slender gilt frame, carved in foliage,
+which the flies had covered with black spots; in front of the
+sofa was a mat with flowers which resembled birds, and birds
+which resembled flowers: and these things constituted almost the
+entire furniture of the far from elegant little house where my
+old people lived. The maids' room was filled with young and
+elderly serving-women in striped chemises, to whom Pulkheria
+Ivanovna sometimes gave trifles to sew, and whom she set to
+picking over berries, but who ran about the kitchen or slept the
+greater part of the time. Pulkheria Ivanovna regarded it as a
+necessity that she should keep them in the house, and she kept a
+strict watch of their morals; but to no purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Afanasy Ivan'itch very rarely occupied himself with the farming;
+although he sometimes went out to see the mowers and
+reapers, and gazed with great intensity at their work. All the
+burden of management devolved upon Pulkheria Ivan'na. Pulkheria
+Ivanovna's housekeeping consisted of a constant locking
+and unlocking of the storehouse, of salting, drying, and preserving
+incalculable quantities of fruits and vegetables. Her house
+was exactly like a chemical laboratory. A fire was constantly
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 6469]</a></span>
+laid under an apple-tree; and the kettle or the brass pan with
+preserves, jelly, marmalade,&mdash;made with honey, with sugar, and
+with I know not what else,&mdash;was hardly ever taken from the
+tripod. Under another tree the coachman was forever distilling
+vodka with peach-leaves, with wild cherry, cherry flowers, wild
+gentian, or cherry-stones, in a copper still; and at the end of the
+process he was never able to control his tongue, but chattered all
+sorts of nonsense which Pulkheria Ivanovna did not understand,
+and took himself off to the kitchen to sleep. Such a quantity of
+all this stuff was preserved, salted, and dried that it would probably
+have overwhelmed the whole yard at least (for Pulkheria
+Ivanovna liked to lay in a store far beyond what was calculated
+for consumption), if the greater part of it had not been devoured
+by the maid-servants, who crept into the storehouse and overate
+themselves to such a fearful extent that they groaned and
+complained of their stomachs for a whole day afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Both the old folks, in accordance with old-fashioned customs,
+were very fond of eating. As soon as daylight dawned (they
+always rose early) and the doors had begun their many-toned
+concert of squeaks, they sat down at the table and drank coffee.
+When Afanasy Ivanovitch had drunk his coffee, he went out,
+flirted his handkerchief, and said, "Kish, kish! go away from
+the veranda, geese!" In the yard he generally encountered the
+steward: he usually entered into conversation with him, inquired
+about the work of the estate with the greatest minuteness, and
+imparted to him such a multitude of observations and orders as
+would have caused any one to marvel at his understanding of
+business; and no novice would have ventured to conjecture that
+so acute a master could be robbed. But his steward was a clever
+rascal: he knew well what answers he must give, and better still
+how to manage things.</p>
+
+<p>This done, Afanasy Ivanovitch returned to the house, and
+approaching Pulkheria Ivanovna, said, "Well, Pulkheria Ivan'na,
+is it time to eat something, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we have to eat now, Afanasy Ivan'itch,&mdash;some
+wheat and suet cakes, or some patties with poppy-seeds, or some
+salted mushrooms?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some mushrooms, then, or some patties, if you please," said
+Afanasy Ivan'itch; and then suddenly a table-cloth would make
+its appearance on the table, with the patties and mushrooms.</p>
+
+<p>An hour before dinner Afanasy Ivan'itch took another snack,
+and drank vodka from an ancient silver cup, ate mushrooms,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 6470]</a></span>
+divers dried fishes, and other things. They sat down to dine at
+twelve o'clock. There stood upon the table, in addition to the
+platters and sauce-boats, a multitude of pots with covers pasted
+on, that the appetizing products of the savory old-fashioned
+cooking might not be exhaled abroad. At dinner the conversation
+turned upon subjects closely connected with the meal.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner Afanasy Ivanovitch went to lie down for an
+hour, at the end of which time Pulkheria Ivanovna brought him
+a sliced watermelon and said, "Here, try this, Afanasy Ivan'itch;
+see what a good melon it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't put faith in it because it is red in the centre, Pulkheria
+Ivan'na," said Afanasy Ivanovitch, taking a good-sized
+chunk. "Sometimes they are not good though they are red."</p>
+
+<p>But the watermelon slowly disappeared. Then Afanasy Ivanovitch
+ate a few pears, and went out into the garden for a walk
+with Pulkheria Ivanovna. When they returned to the house,
+Pulkheria Ivanovna went about her own affairs; but he sat down
+on the veranda facing the yard, and observed how the interior
+of the store-room was alternately disclosed and revealed, and how
+the girls jostled each other as they carried in or brought out all
+sorts of stuff in wooden boxes, sieves, trays, and other receptacles
+for fruit. After waiting a while, he sent for Pulkheria
+Ivanovna or went in search of her himself, and said, "What is
+there for me to eat, Pulkheria Ivan'na?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is there?" asked Pulkheria Ivanovna. "Shall I go
+and tell them to bring you some curd dumplings with berries,
+which I had set aside for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That would be good," answered Afanasy Ivanovitch.</p>
+
+<p>"Or perhaps you could eat some kisel?" [A jelly-like pudding,
+made of potato flour, and flavored with some sour fruit
+juice.]</p>
+
+<p>"That is good also," replied Afanasy Invanovitch; whereupon
+all of them were immediately brought and eaten in due course.</p>
+
+<p>Before supper Afanasy Invanovitch took another appetizing
+snack.</p>
+
+<p>At half-past nine they sat down to supper. After supper
+they went directly to bed, and universal silence settled down
+upon this busy yet quiet nook.</p>
+
+<p>The chamber in which Afanasy Ivanovitch and Pulkheria
+Ivanovna slept was so hot that very few people could have
+stayed in it more than a few hours; but Afanasy Ivanovitch, for
+the sake of more warmth, slept upon the stove bench, although
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 6471]</a></span>
+the excessive heat caused him to rise several times in the course
+of the night and walk about the room. Sometimes Afanasy Ivanovitch
+groaned as he walked thus about the room.</p>
+
+<p>Then Pulkheria Ivanovna inquired, "Why do you groan,
+Afanasy Ivan'itch?"</p>
+
+<p>"God knows, Pulkheria Ivan'na! It seems to me that my
+stomach aches a little," said Afanasy Ivanovitch.</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you better eat something, Afanasy Ivan'itch?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know; perhaps it would be well, Pulkheria Ivan'na:
+by the way, what is there to eat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sour milk, or some stewed dried pears."</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, I will try them," said Afanasy Ivanovitch. A
+sleepy maid was sent to ransack the cupboards, and Afanasy
+Ivanovitch ate a plateful; after which he remarked, "Now I
+seem to feel relieved."</p>
+
+<p>I loved to visit them; and though I over-ate myself horribly,
+like all their guests, and although it was very bad for me, still
+I was always glad to go to them. Besides, I think that the air
+of Little Russia must possess some special properties which aid
+digestion; for if any one were to undertake to eat in that way
+here, there is not a doubt but that he would find himself lying
+on the table a corpse, instead of in bed.</p>
+
+<p>Pulkheria Ivanovna had a little gray cat, which almost always
+lay coiled up in a ball at her feet. Pulkheria Ivanovna stroked
+her occasionally, and tickled her neck with her finger, the petted
+cat stretching it out as long as possible. It would not be correct
+to affirm that Pulkheria Ivanovna loved her so very much, but
+she had simply become attached to her from seeing her continually
+about. Afanasy Ivanovitch often joked about the attachment.</p>
+
+<p>Behind their garden lay a large forest, which had been spared
+by the enterprising steward, possibly because the sound of the
+axe might have reached the ears of Pulkheria Ivanovna. It was
+dense, neglected; the old tree trunks were concealed by luxuriant
+hazel-bushes, and resembled the feathered legs of pigeons. In
+this wood dwelt wild cats. These cats had a long conference
+with Pulkheria Ivanovna's tame cat through a hole under the
+storehouse, and at last led her astray, as a detachment of soldiers
+leads astray a dull-witted peasant. Pulkheria Ivanovna
+noticed that her cat was missing, and caused search to be made
+for her; but no cat was to be found. Three days passed; Pulkheria
+Ivanovna felt sorry, but in the end forgot all about her
+loss.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 6472]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[The cat returns to the place half starved, and is coaxed to come into the
+house and eat, but runs away on Pulkheria Ivanovna's trying to pet her.]</p></div>
+
+<p>The old woman became pensive. "It is my death which is
+come for me," she said to herself; and nothing could cheer her.
+All day she was sad. In vain did Afanasy Ivanovitch jest, and
+seek to discover why she had suddenly grown so grave. Pulkheria
+Ivanovna either made no reply, or one which did not
+in the least satisfy Afanasy Ivanovitch. The next day she had
+grown visibly thinner.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with you, Pulkheria Ivanovna? You are
+not ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not ill, Afanasy Ivan'itch. I want to tell you
+about a strange occurrence, I know that I shall die this year;
+my death has already come for me."</p>
+
+<p>Afanasy Ivanovitch's mouth was distorted with pain. Nevertheless
+he tried to conquer the sad feeling in his mind, and said
+smiling, "God only knows what you are talking about, Pulkheria
+Ivan'na! You must have drunk some of your peach infusion
+instead of your usual herb tea."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Afanasy Ivan'itch, I have not drunk my peach infusion,"
+replied Pulkheria Ivanovna. "I beg of you, Afanasy Ivan'itch, to
+fulfill my wishes. When I die, bury me by the church wall.
+Put on me my grayish gown,&mdash;the one with the small flowers on
+a cinnamon ground. My satin gown with the red stripes you
+must not put on me: a corpse needs no clothes; of what use
+are they to her? But it will be good for you. Make yourself
+a fine dressing-gown, in case visitors come, so that you can make
+a good appearance when you receive them."</p>
+
+<p>"God knows what you are saying, Pulkheria Ivan'na!" said
+Afanasy Ivanovitch. "Death will come some time; but you
+frighten me with such remarks."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind, Yavdokha," she said, turning to the housekeeper, whom
+she had sent for expressly, "that you look after your master when
+I am dead, and cherish him like the apple of your eye, like your
+own child. See that everything he likes is prepared in the
+kitchen; that his linen and clothes are always clean; that when
+visitors happen in, you dress him properly, otherwise he will
+come forth in his old dressing-gown, for he often forgets now
+whether it is a festival or an ordinary day."</p>
+
+<p>Poor old woman! She had no thought for the great moment
+which was awaiting her, nor of her soul, nor of the future life;
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 6473]</a></span>
+she thought only of her poor companion, with whom she had
+passed her life, and whom she was about to leave an orphan and
+unprotected. After this fashion did she arrange everything with
+great skill, so that after her death Afanasy Ivanovitch might
+not perceive her absence. Her faith in her approaching end was
+so firm, and her mind was so fixed upon it, that in a few days
+she actually took to her bed, and was unable to swallow any
+nourishment.</p>
+
+<p>Afanasy Ivanovitch was all attention, and never left her bedside.
+"Perhaps you could eat something, Pulkheria Ivan'na," he
+said, gazing uneasily into her eyes. But Pulkheria Ivanovna
+made no reply. At length, after a long silence, she moved her
+lips as though desirous of saying something&mdash;and her spirit fled.</p>
+
+<p>Afanasy Ivanovitch was utterly amazed. It seemed to him so
+terrible that he did not even weep. He gazed at her with
+troubled eyes, as though he did not understand the meaning of
+a corpse.</p>
+
+<p>Five years passed. Being in the vicinity at the end of the
+five years, I went to the little estate of Afanasy Ivanovitch, to
+inquire after my old neighbor, with whom I had spent the day
+so agreeably in former times, dining always on the choicest delicacies
+of his kind-hearted wife. When I drove up to the door,
+the house seemed twice as old as formerly; the peasants' cottages
+were lying on one side, without doubt exactly like their
+owners; the fence and hedge around the yard were dilapidated;
+and I myself saw the cook pull out a paling to heat the stove,
+when she had only a couple of steps to take in order to get the
+kindling-wood which had been piled there expressly for her use.
+I stepped sadly upon the veranda; the same dogs, now blind or
+with broken legs, raised their bushy tails, all matted with burs,
+and barked.</p>
+
+<p>The old man came out to meet me. So this was he! I recognized
+him at once, but he was twice as bent as formerly. He
+knew me, and greeted me with the smile which was so familiar
+to me. I followed him into the room. All there seemed as in
+the past; but I observed a strange disorder, a tangible loss of
+something. In everything was visible the absence of the painstaking
+Pulkheria Ivanovna. At table, they gave us a knife without
+a handle; the dishes were prepared with little art. I did not
+care to inquire about the management of the estate; I was even
+afraid to glance at the farm buildings. I tried to interest Afanasy
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 6474]</a></span>
+Ivanovitch in something, and told him divers bits of news. He
+listened with his customary smile, but his glance was at times
+quite unintelligent; and thoughts did not wander therein&mdash;they
+simply disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the dish&mdash;" said Afanasy Ivanovitch when they
+brought us curds and flour with cream, "&mdash;this is the dish&mdash;"
+he continued, and I observed that his voice began to quiver, and
+that tears were on the point of bursting from his leaden eyes;
+but he collected all his strength in the effort to repress them:
+"this is the dish which the&mdash;the&mdash;the de&mdash;ceas&mdash;" and his tears
+suddenly gushed forth, his hand fell upon his plate, the plate
+was overturned, flew from the table, and was broken. He sat
+stupidly, holding the spoon, and tears like a never-ceasing fountain
+flowed, flowed in streams down upon his napkin.</p>
+
+<p>He did not live long after this. I heard of his death recently.
+What was strange, though, was that the circumstances attending
+it somewhat resembled those connected with the death of Pulkheria
+Ivanovna. One day, Afanasy Ivanovitch decided to take a
+short stroll in the garden. As he went slowly down the path
+with his usual heedlessness, a strange thing happened to him.
+All at once he heard some one behind him say in a distinct
+voice, "Afanasy Ivan'itch!" He turned round, but there was no
+one there. He looked on all sides; he peered into the shrubbery,&mdash;no
+one anywhere. The day was calm and the sun was shining
+brightly. He pondered for a moment. Then his face lighted
+up, and at last he cried, "It is Pulkheria Ivanovna calling me!"</p>
+
+<p>He surrendered himself utterly to the moral conviction that
+Pulkheria Ivanovna was calling him. He yielded with the meekness
+of a submissive child, withered up, coughed, melted away
+like a candle, and at last expired like it when nothing remains to
+feed its poor flame. "Lay me beside Pulkheria Ivan'na"&mdash;that
+was all he said before his death.</p>
+
+<p>His wish was fulfilled; and they buried him beside the churchyard
+wall close to Pulkheria Ivanovna's grave. The guests at
+the funeral were few, but there was a throng of common and
+poor people. The house was already quite deserted. The enterprising
+clerk and village elder carried off to their cottages all
+the old household utensils which the housekeeper did not manage
+to appropriate.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Isabel F.
+Hapgood</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 6475]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GOLDONI" id="GOLDONI"></a>
+<span class="caption">CARLO GOLDONI.</span>
+<img src="images/goldoni.jpg" width="100%" alt="CARLO GOLDONI." title="CARLO GOLDONI." />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="CARLO_GOLDONI" id="CARLO_GOLDONI"></a>CARLO GOLDONI</h2>
+
+<h4>(1707-1793)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capi.png" width="90" height="90" alt="I" title="I" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">taly is generally felt to be, above all other lands, the natural
+home of the drama. In acting, as in music, indeed, the sceptre
+has never wholly passed from her: Ristori and Salvini
+certainly are not yet forgotten. The Gr&aelig;co-Roman comedies of Plautus
+and Terence, the rhetorical tragedy of Seneca, have had a far
+more direct hand in molding the modern dramatists' art than have
+the loftier creative masterpieces of the great Attic Four. Indeed,
+Latin has never become in Italy a really dead language, remote from
+the popular consciousness. The splendor of the Church ritual, the
+great mass of the educated clergy, the almost purely Latin roots of
+the vernacular, have made such a loss impossible.</p>
+
+<p>In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries Terence and Plautus were
+often revived on the stage, still oftener imitated in Latin. Many of
+the greatest names in modern Italian literature are in some degree
+associated with drama. Thus Machiavelli made free Italian versions
+from both the comic Latin poets, and wrote a powerful though immoral
+prose comedy, 'The Magic Draught' (Mandragola). Tasso's
+'Aminta' is as sweet and musical, and hardly so artificial, as that
+famous 'Pastor Fido' of Guarini, which has become the ideal type of
+all the mock-pastoral comedy out of which the modern opera has
+risen.</p>
+
+<p>So, when Goldoni is hailed as the father of modern Italian comedy,
+it can only mean that his prolific Muse has dominated the stage
+in our own century and in its native land. In his delightfully na&iuml;ve
+Memoirs he frequently announces himself as the leader of <i>reform</i> in
+the dramatic art. And this claim is better founded; though there is
+a startling discrepancy between the character, the temper, the life
+of this child of the sun, and the Anglo-Saxon ideal of "Man the
+Reformer" as delineated, for instance, by our own cooler-blooded
+Emerson!</p>
+
+<p>Under the lead of Goldoni's elder contemporary Metastasio, the
+lyrical drama of pastoral and artificial love had become fully wedded
+to music; and it is rightly felt that the resulting modern opera
+is a genus of its own, not essentially nor chiefly dramatic in character
+and aims. An opera can be sung without action; it cannot be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 6476]</a></span>
+acted without music. On the other hand, the farce had become almost
+restricted to the stock masked characters, Pantaloon, the Dottore,
+Arlecchino, and the rest, with a narrow range of childish buffoonery
+in the action. The companies of professional actors, endowed with
+that marvelous power of improvisation which the very language of
+Italy seems to stimulate, hardly permitted the poet to offer them
+more than a mere outline of a shallow plot, to be filled in from
+scene to scene at the impulse of the moment on the stage!</p>
+
+<p>Under these circumstances it was indeed necessary to reclaim the
+rights of the dramatic poet, to reduce to decent limits the "gag"
+which the comic actor has doubtless always been eager to use, and
+also to educate or beguile his public up to the point of lending a
+moderately attentive ear to a play of sustained interest and culminating
+plot. In this seemingly modest but really most difficult task,
+Goldoni scored a decided success,&mdash;a triumph.</p>
+
+<p>Even his checkered life as a whole was, at eighty, in his own
+retrospect a happy comedy, mingled with few serious reverses and
+hardly darkened at all by remorse. Such lives at best are nowise
+numerous. Adequate self-portraitures of successful artists are so rare
+that the autobiographies of the gentle Goldoni, and of his savage
+fellow-countryman Benvenuto Cellini, almost form a class of literature
+by themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Born in Venice in fair social position, Goldoni spent his childhood
+chiefly in Chiozza, a ruder and humbler miniature of the island city
+some twenty-five miles away. Though an incurable wanderer,&mdash;indeed,
+so filled with the true Bohemian's feverish love for change that
+he never could endure even success anywhere for many summers,&mdash;he
+yet gave more of his best years, and a heartier loyalty, to Venice
+than to any other home. He knew best, and delineated best, the
+ordinary life of the lagoons. Mr. Howells, himself by long residence
+and love a half-Venetian, declares that the comedies in the local dialect
+are invariably the best, and next best the Italian plays whose
+scenes are at least laid in Venice. Perhaps the critic is here himself
+unduly swayed by his affections. Goldoni knew well nearly all Italian
+lands. He had even, for a series of years, a career as an advocate in
+Pisa. "My comic genius was not extinguished, but suppressed," he
+explains. He did not even then give up play-writing, and a traveling
+theatre manager easily beguiled him back to Venice. This was in
+1747, and this same manager, Medebac, setting up a new theatre in
+Venice, absorbed Goldoni's energies for several years. It was in 1750
+that he successfully carried out a rash vow to produce sixteen new
+comedies in a single year! Among these are a goodly number of his
+best, including 'The Coffee-House,' from which a few scenes are
+given below.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 6477]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Though he passed over into the service of a different theatre,
+traveled constantly with his actors, accepted invitations to Parma,
+Rome, etc., to oversee the performance of his plays, yet he never
+gave up his home in Venice altogether, until summoned to Paris in
+1761. These fourteen years, moreover, form the happiest period of his
+life. His income from the theatres, from published editions of his
+comedies, and from his inherited property, would have made him
+wealthy, but for his extravagant and careless mode of life.</p>
+
+<p>Despite one notable success in French with the comedy 'The Surly
+Benefactor' (1771), Goldoni's life in France was relatively unprofitable
+and ignoble. He became Italian teacher of various royal princesses,
+with the utmost uncertainty and delay as to his salaries or pensions.
+Yet he could never break the fascination of Paris. The art of the
+French actors was a never-failing delight to him. There, at the age
+of eighty, in French, he wrote and published his 'Memoirs.' The
+Revolution swept away his negligent patrons. In poverty and utter
+neglect he died at last, just as the republicans were ready to restore
+his royal pension.</p>
+
+<p>Goldoni was the child of Italy and of the eighteenth century. He
+had no serious quarrel with his environment. He was not greatly
+superior, in actual character or aspirations, to his associates. His
+affection for his devoted wife did not save him from many a wandering
+passion. The promising prima donnas, in particular, found in him
+an all too devoted instructor and protector. The gaming-table and
+the lottery are apparently irresistible to any true Italian, and Goldoni
+knew by heart the passions which he ridicules or condemns, though
+without bitterness, upon his stage. His oft-repeated claim to have
+reformed the Italian theatre meant chiefly this: that between the
+lyrical drama of Metastasio on the one hand, and the popular masque
+with stock characters on the other,&mdash;and while contributing to both
+these forms of art,&mdash;he did firmly establish the comedy of plot and
+dialogue, carefully learned and rehearsed, in which the players must
+speak the speech as it is pronounced to them by the poet.</p>
+
+<p>Goldoni himself acknowledges, perhaps not too sincerely, in his
+Parisian memoirs, the superiority, the mastership, of Moli&egrave;re. In
+truth, the great Frenchman stands, with Aristophanes and Shakespeare,
+upon a lonely height quite unapproached by lesser devotees of
+Thalia. We must not seek in Goldoni a prober of the human heart,
+not even a fearless satirist of social conditions. In his rollicking
+good-humor and content with the world as he finds it, Goldoni is
+much like Plautus. He is moreover under a censorship hardly less
+severe. He dares not, for instance, introduce upon his stage any
+really offensive type of Venetian nobleman. As for religious dictation,
+the convent must not even be mentioned, though the <i>aunt</i> with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 6478]</a></span>
+whom the young lady is visiting sometimes becomes as transparent
+an idiom as the "uncle" of a spendthrift cockney! The audience,
+moreover, demand only diversion, not serious instruction (as Goethe
+complains, even of his grave Germans, in the 'Prolog im Theater').
+It is remarkable, under all these conditions, how healthy, how kindly,
+how proper, most of Goldoni's work is. Doubtless, like Goldsmith, he
+could preach the more gracefully, persuasively, and unobservedly,
+because he never attempted to escape from the very vices or indulgences
+that he satirizes. But even the most determined seeker for
+the moral element in art will find little indeed thereof in Goldoni's
+merry comedies. Incredible as it seems to us Puritans, he really
+made it his mission to amuse. Thoroughly in love with the rather
+ignoble, trivial life of his day, he holds the dramatic mirror up to it
+with lifelong optimism and enjoyment. His wit is not keen, his
+poetic imagination is slight indeed. Aside from the true dramatist's
+skill in construction, in plot, his power lies chiefly in the rapid, clear,
+firm outlines of his character-drawing. These characters are for the
+most part just about such men and women, such creatures of impulse
+and whim, such genial mingling of naughtiness and good intentions,
+as we see about us. He never delineates a saint or a hero; hardly a
+monster of wickedness. He had never known either, and would not
+have been interested if he had. The charm of Goldoni is felt chiefly
+in Venice, or at least in Italy, while listening to his comedy and
+watching the enjoyment mirrored in the faces of his own audience.
+It evaporates in translation, and his plays are meant only to be heard,
+not read. To Mr. Howells's own affectionate testimony we may add
+his happy citation from Goethe, who is writing from Venice in 1786:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Yesterday, at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed 'Le Baruffe-Chiozotte,'
+which I should interpret 'The Frays and Feuds of Chiozza.' The <i>dramatis
+person&aelig;</i> are principally seafaring people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with
+their wives, sisters, and daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of such
+sort of people in their good or ill luck,&mdash;their dealings one with another, their
+vehemence but goodness of heart, commonplace remarks and unaffected manners,
+their naive wit and humor,&mdash;all this was excellently imitated. The piece
+moreover is Goldoni's, and as I had been only the day before in the place
+itself, and as the tones and manners of the sailors and people of the seaport
+still echoed in my ears and floated before my eyes, it delighted me very much;
+and although I did not understand a single allusion, I was nevertheless, on the
+whole, able to follow it pretty well.... I never witnessed anything like
+the noisy delight the people evinced at seeing themselves and their mates
+represented with such truth of nature. It was one continued laugh and
+tumultuous shout of exultation from beginning to end.... Great praise
+is due to the author, who out of nothing has here created the most amusing
+<i>divertissement</i>. However, he never could have done it with any other people
+than his own merry and light-hearted countrymen."</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 6479]</a></span></p>
+<p>Of Goldoni's one hundred and sixty comedies, only a scanty handful
+have been tolerably translated in English. As accessible and
+agreeable an introduction as any, perhaps, is the version of four notable
+plays by Miss Helen Zimmern in the series 'Masterpieces of
+Foreign Authors.' The 'Memoirs' have been fairly rendered by John
+Black, and this version, considerably abridged, was served up by Mr.
+Howells in 1877 among his series of 'Choice Autobiographies.' Mr.
+Howells's introductory essay appeared also in the Atlantic Monthly.
+It has been drawn upon somewhat in the present sketch.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 800px;">
+<img src="images/sign251.png" width="800" height="60" alt="William Cranston Lawton" title="William Cranston Lawton" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FIRST_LOVE_AND_PARTING" id="FIRST_LOVE_AND_PARTING"></a>FIRST LOVE AND PARTING</h3>
+
+<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4>
+
+<p>I was intrusted some time afterwards with another commission,
+of a much more agreeable and amusing nature. This was to
+carry through an investigation, ten leagues from the town,
+into the circumstances of a dispute where firearms had been
+made use of and dangerous wounds received. As the country
+where this happened was flat, and the road lay through charming
+estates and country-houses, I engaged several of my friends to
+follow me; we were in all twelve, six males and six females, and
+four domestics. We all rode on horseback, and we employed
+twelve days in this delicious expedition....</p>
+
+<p>In this party there were two sisters, one married and the other
+single. The latter was very much to my liking, and I may say
+I made the party for her alone. She was as prudent and modest
+as her sister was headstrong and foolish; the singularity of our
+journey afforded us an opportunity of coming to an explanation,
+and we became lovers.</p>
+
+<p>My investigation was concluded in two hours; we selected
+another road for our return, to vary our pleasure.... The six
+gentlemen of our party proposed another species of entertainment.
+In the palace of the governor there was a theatre, which they
+wished to put to some use; and they did me the honor to tell me
+that they had conceived the project on my account, and they left
+me the power of choosing the pieces and distributing the characters.
+I thanked them, and accepted the proposition; and with
+the approbation of his Excellency and my chancellor, I put myself
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 6480]</a></span>
+at the head of this new entertainment. I could have wished something
+comic, but I was not fond of buffoonery, and there were no
+good comedies; I therefore gave the preference to tragedy. As
+the operas of Metastasio were then represented everywhere, even
+without music, I put the airs into recitative; I endeavored as
+well as I could to approximate the style of that charming author;
+and I made choice of 'Didone' and 'Siroe' for our representation.
+I distributed the parts according to the characters of my actors,
+whom I knew, and I reserved the worst for myself. In this I
+acted wisely, for I was completely unsuited for tragedy. Fortunately,
+I had composed two small pieces in which I played two
+parts of character, and redeemed my reputation. The first of these
+pieces was 'The Good Father,' and the second 'La Cantatrice.'
+Both were approved of, and my acting was considered passable
+for an amateur. I saw the last of these pieces some time afterwards
+at Venice, where a young advocate thought proper to give
+it out as his own work, and to receive compliments on the subject;
+but having been imprudent enough to publish it with his
+name, he experienced the mortification of seeing his plagiarism
+unmasked.</p>
+
+<p>I did what I could to engage my beautiful Angelica to accept
+a part in our tragedies, but it was impossible; she was timid, and
+had she even been willing, her parents would not have given
+their permission. She visited us; but this pleasure cost her tears,
+for she was jealous, and suffered much from seeing me on such
+a familiar footing with my fair companions. The poor little girl
+loved me with tenderness and sincerity, and I loved her also with
+my whole soul; I may say she was the first person whom I ever
+loved. She aspired to become my wife, which she would have
+been if certain singular reflections, that however were well
+founded, had not turned me from the design. Her elder sister
+had been remarkably beautiful, and after her first child she became
+ugly. The youngest had the same skin and the same
+features; she was one of those delicate beauties whom the air
+injures, and whom the smallest fatigue or pain discomposes: of
+all of which I saw a convincing proof. The fatigue of our journey
+produced a visible change upon her: I was young, and if my
+wife were in a short time to have lost her bloom, I foresaw what
+would have been my despair. This was reasoning curiously for
+a lover; but whether from virtue, weakness, or inconstancy, I
+quitted Feltre without marrying her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 6481]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_ORIGIN_OF_MASKS_IN_THE_ITALIAN_COMEDY" id="THE_ORIGIN_OF_MASKS_IN_THE_ITALIAN_COMEDY"></a>THE ORIGIN OF "MASKS" IN THE ITALIAN COMEDY</h3>
+
+<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4>
+
+<p>The amateurs of the old comedy, on seeing the rapid progress
+of the new, declared everywhere that it was unworthy of
+an Italian to give a blow to a species of comedy in which
+Italy had attained great distinction, and which no other nation
+had ever yet been able to imitate. But what made the greatest
+impression on the discontented was the suppression of masks,
+which my system appeared to threaten. It was said that these
+personages had for two centuries been the amusement of Italy,
+and that it ought not to be deprived of a species of comic diversion
+which it had created and so well supported.</p>
+
+<p>Before venturing to give any opinion on this subject, I imagine
+the reader will have no objection to listen for a few minutes to
+a short account of the origin, employment, and effects of these
+four masks. Comedy, which in all ages has been the favorite
+entertainment of polished nations, shared the fate of the arts and
+sciences, and was buried under the ruins of the Empire during
+the decay of letters. The germ of comedy, however, was never
+altogether extinguished in the fertile bosom of Italy. Those who
+first endeavored to bring about its revival, not finding in an
+ignorant age writers of sufficient skill, had the boldness to draw
+out plans, to distribute them into acts and scenes, and to utter
+extempore the subjects, thoughts, and witticisms which they had
+concerted among themselves. Those who could read (and neither
+the great nor the rich were of the number) found that in the
+comedies of Plautus and Terence there were always duped fathers,
+debauched sons, enamored girls, knavish servants, and mercenary
+maids; and, running over the different districts of Italy, they
+took the fathers from Venice and Bologna, the servants from
+Bergamo, and the lovers and waiting-maids from the dominions
+of Rome and Tuscany. Written proofs are not to be expected of
+what took place in a time when writing was not in use; but I
+prove my assertion in this way: Pantaloon has always been a
+Venetian, the Doctor a Bolognese, and Brighella and Harlequin
+Bergamasks; and from these places, therefore, the comic personages
+called the four masks of the Italian comedy were taken
+by the players. What I say on this subject is not altogether
+the creature of my imagination; I possess a manuscript of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 6482]</a></span>
+fifteenth century, in very good preservation and bound in parchment,
+containing a hundred and twenty subjects or sketches of
+Italian pieces, called comedies of art, and of which the basis of
+the comic humor is always Pantaloon, a Venetian merchant; the
+Doctor, a Bolognese jurisconsult; and Brighella and Harlequin,
+Bergamask valets,&mdash;the first clever and sprightly, and the other
+a mere dolt. Their antiquity and their long existence indicate
+their origin.</p>
+
+<p>With respect to their employment, Pantaloon and the Doctor,
+called by the Italians the two old men, represent the part of
+fathers, and the other parts where cloaks are worn. The first is
+a merchant, because Venice in its ancient times was the richest
+and most extensively commercial country of Italy. He has
+always preserved the ancient Venetian costume; the black dress
+and the woolen bonnet are still worn in Venice; and the red
+under-waistcoat and breeches, cut out like drawers, with red
+stockings and slippers, are a most exact representation of the
+equipment of the first inhabitants of the Adriatic marshes. The
+beard, which was considered as an ornament in those remote
+ages, has been caricatured and rendered ridiculous in subsequent
+periods.</p>
+
+<p>The second old man, called the Doctor, was taken from among
+the lawyers, for the sake of opposing a learned man to a merchant;
+and Bologna was selected because in that city there
+existed a university, which, notwithstanding the ignorance of the
+times, still preserved the offices and emoluments of the professors.
+In the dress of the Doctor we observe the ancient costume
+of the university and bar of Bologna, which is nearly the same
+at this day; and the idea of the singular mask which covers his
+face and nose was taken from a wine stain which disfigured the
+countenance of a jurisconsult in those times. This is a tradition
+still existing among the amateurs of the comedy of art.</p>
+
+<p>Brighella and Harlequin, called in Italy the two Zani, were
+taken from Bergamo; because, the former being a very sharp
+fellow and the other a stupid clown, these two extremes are only
+to be found among the lower orders of that part of the country.
+Brighella represents an intriguing, deceitful, and knavish valet.
+His dress is a species of livery; his swarthy mask is a caricature
+of the color of the inhabitants of those high mountains, tanned
+by the heat of the sun. Some comedians, in this character, have
+taken the name of Fenocchio, Fiqueto, and Scapin; but they
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 6483]</a></span>
+have always represented the same valet and the same Bergamask.
+The harlequins have also assumed other names: they have been
+sometimes Tracagnins, Truffaldins, Gradelins, and Mezetins; but
+they have always been stupid Bergamasks. Their dress is an
+exact representation of that of a poor devil who has picked up
+pieces of stuffs of different colors to patch his dress; his hat corresponds
+with his mendicity, and the hare's tail with which it
+is ornamented is still common in the dress of the peasantry of
+Bergamo.</p>
+
+<p>I have thus, I trust, sufficiently demonstrated the origin and
+employment of the four masks of the Italian comedy; it now
+remains for me to mention the effects resulting from them. The
+mask must always be very prejudicial to the action of the performer,
+either in joy or sorrow: whether he be in love, cross, or
+good-humored, the same features are always exhibited; and however
+he may gesticulate and vary the tone, he can never convey
+by the countenance, which is the interpreter of the heart, the
+different passions with which he is inwardly agitated. The masks
+of the Greeks and Romans were a sort of speaking-trumpets,
+invented for the purpose of conveying the sound through the
+vast extent of their amphitheatres. Passion and sentiment were
+not in those times carried to the pitch of delicacy now actually
+necessary. The actor must in our days possess a soul; and the
+soul under a mask is like a fire under ashes. These were the
+reasons which induced me to endeavor the reform of the Italian
+theatre; and to supply the place of farces with comedies. But
+the complaints became louder and louder: I was disgusted with
+the two parties, and I endeavored to satisfy both; I undertook to
+produce a few pieces merely sketched, without ceasing to give
+comedies of character. I employed the masks in the former,
+and I displayed a more noble and interesting comic humor in the
+others: each participated in the species of pleasure with which
+they were most delighted; with time and patience I brought
+about a reconciliation between them; and I had the satisfaction
+at length to see myself authorized in following my own taste,
+which became in a few years the most general and prevailing in
+Italy. I willingly pardoned the partisans of the comedians with
+masks the injuries they laid to my charge; for they were very
+able amateurs, who had the merit of giving themselves an interest
+to sketched comedies.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 6484]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="PURISTS_AND_PEDANTRY" id="PURISTS_AND_PEDANTRY"></a>PURISTS AND PEDANTRY</h3>
+
+<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4>
+
+<p>My journey to Parma, and the pension and diploma conferred
+on me, excited the envy and rage of my adversaries.
+They had reported at Venice during my absence that I
+was dead; and there was a monk who had even the temerity to
+say he had been at my funeral. On arriving home safe and
+sound, the evil-disposed began to display their irritation at my
+good fortune. It was not the authors, my antagonists, who tormented
+me, but the partisans of the different theatres of Venice.</p>
+
+<p>I was defended by literary men, who entertained a favorable
+opinion of me; and this gave rise to a warfare in which I was
+very innocently the victim of the irritation which had been excited.
+My system has always been never to mention the names
+of my adversaries: but I cannot avoid expressing the honor
+which I feel in proclaiming those of my advocates. Father
+Roberti, a Jesuit, at present the Abb&eacute; Roberti, one of the most
+illustrious poets of the suppressed society, published a poem in
+blank verse, entitled 'Comedy'; and by dwelling on the reformation
+effected by me, and analyzing several scenes in my pieces,
+he encouraged his countrymen and mine to follow the example
+and the system of the Venetian author. Count Verri, a Milanese,
+followed the Abb&eacute; Roberti.... Other patricians of Venice
+wrote in my favor, on account of the disputes which were every
+day growing warmer and warmer.... Every day witnessed
+some new composition for or against me; but I had this advantage,&mdash;that
+those who interested themselves for me, from their
+manners, their talents, and their reputation, were among the
+most prudent and distinguished men in Italy.</p>
+
+<p>One of the articles for which I was most keenly attacked was
+a violation of the purity of the language. I was a Venetian, and
+I had had the disadvantage of sucking in with my mother's milk
+the use of a very agreeable and seductive patois, which however
+was not Tuscan. I learned by principle, and cultivated by reading,
+the language of the good Italian authors; but first impressions
+will return at times, notwithstanding every attention used
+in avoiding them. I had undertaken a journey into Tuscany,
+where I remained for four years, with the view of becoming
+familiar with the language; and I printed the first edition of my
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 6485]</a></span>
+works at Florence, under the eyes and the criticism of the
+learned of that place, that I might purify them from errors of
+language. All my precautions were insufficient to satisfy the
+rigorists: I always failed in one thing or other; and I was perpetually
+reproached with the original sin of Venetianism.</p>
+
+<p>Amidst all this tedious trifling, I recollected one day that
+Tasso had been worried his whole lifetime by the Academicians
+della Crusca, who maintained that his 'Jerusalem Delivered' had
+not passed through the sieve which is the emblem of their society.
+I was then in my closet, and I turned my eyes towards
+the twelve quarto volumes of the works of that author, and exclaimed,
+"Oh heavens! must no one write in the Italian language
+who has not been born in Tuscany?" I turned up mechanically
+the five volumes of the Dictionary della Crusca, where I found
+more than six hundred words, and a number of expressions, approved
+of by the academy and rejected by the world; I ran over
+several ancient authors considered as classical, whom it would be
+impossible to imitate in the present day without censure; and I
+came to this conclusion&mdash;that we must write in good Italian, but
+write at the same time so as to be understood in every corner of
+Italy. Tasso was therefore wrong in reforming his poem to
+please the Academicians della Crusca: his 'Jerusalem Delivered'
+is read by everybody, while nobody thinks of reading his 'Jerusalem
+Conquered.'</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="A_POETS_OLD_AGE" id="A_POETS_OLD_AGE"></a>A POET'S OLD AGE</h3>
+
+<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4>
+
+<p>I return to my regimen,&mdash;you will say here also, perhaps, that
+I ought to omit it: you are in the right; but all this is in
+my head, and I must be delivered of it by degrees; I cannot
+spare you a single comma. After dinner I am not fond of
+either working or walking. Sometimes I go to the theatre, but
+I am most generally in parties till nine o'clock in the evening.
+I always return before ten o'clock. I take two or three small
+cakes with a glass of wine and water, and this is the whole of
+my supper. I converse with my wife till midnight; I very soon
+fall asleep, and pass the night tranquilly.</p>
+
+<p>It sometimes happens to me, as well as every other person, to
+have my head occupied with something capable of retarding my
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 6486]</a></span>
+sleep. In this case I have a certain remedy to lull myself asleep,
+and it is this: I had long projected a vocabulary of the Venetian
+dialect, and I had even communicated my intention to the public,
+who are still in expectation of it. While laboring at this tedious
+and disgusting work, I soon discovered that it threw me asleep.
+I laid it therefore aside, and I profited by its narcotic faculty.
+Whenever I feel my mind agitated by any moral cause, I take at
+random some word of my national language and translate it into
+Tuscan and French. In the same manner I pass in review all
+the words which follow in the alphabetical order, and I am sure
+to fall asleep at the third or fourth version. My recipe has never
+once failed me. It is not difficult to demonstrate the cause and
+effect of this phenomenon. A painful idea requires to be replaced
+by an opposite or indifferent idea; and the agitation of the
+mind once calmed, the senses become tranquil and are deadened
+by sleep.</p>
+
+<p>But this remedy, however excellent, might not be useful to
+every one. A man of too keen and feeling a disposition would
+not succeed. The temperament must be such as that with which
+nature has favored me. My moral qualities bear a resemblance
+to my physical: I dread neither cold nor heat, and I neither
+allow myself to be inflamed by rage nor intoxicated by joy....</p>
+
+<p>I am now arrived at the year 1787, which is the eightieth of
+my age, and that to which I have limited the course of my
+Memoirs. I have completed my eightieth year; my work is also
+finished. All is over, and I proceed to send my volumes to the
+press. This last chapter does not therefore touch on the events
+of the current year; but I have still some duties to discharge.
+I must begin with returning thanks to those persons who have
+reposed so much confidence in me as to honor me with their
+subscriptions.</p>
+
+<p>I do not speak of the kindness and favors of the King and
+court; this is not the place to mention them. I have named in
+my work some of my friends and even some of my protectors.
+I beg pardon of them: if I have done so without their permission,
+it is not through vanity; the occasion has suggested it; their
+names have dropped from my pen, the heart has seized on the
+instant, and the hand has not been unwilling. For example, the
+following is one of the fortunate occasions I allude to. I was
+unwell a few days ago; the Count Alfieri did me the honor to
+call on me; I knew his talents, but his conversation impressed on
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 6487]</a></span>
+me the wrong which I should have done in omitting him. He
+is a very intelligent and learned literary man, who principally
+excels in the art of Sophocles and Euripides, and after these great
+models he has framed his tragedies. They have gone through
+two editions in Italy, and are at present in the press of Didot at
+Paris. I shall enter into no details respecting them, as they may
+be seen and judged of by every one.</p>
+
+<p>During my convalescence M. Caccia, a banker in Paris, my
+friend and countryman, sent me a book addressed to him from
+Italy for me. It was a collection of French epigrams and madrigals,
+translated into Italian by the Count Roncali, of the city of
+Brescia in the Venetian dominions. This charming poet has
+merely translated the thoughts; he has said the same things in
+fewer words, and he has fallen upon as brilliant and striking
+points in his own language as those of his originals.</p>
+
+<p>I had the honor of seeing M. Roncali twelve years ago at
+Paris, and he allows me to hope that I shall have the good fortune
+to see him again. This is infinitely flattering to me; but
+I earnestly entreat him to make haste, as my career is far
+advanced, and what is still worse, I am extremely fatigued. I
+have undertaken too long and too laborious a work for my age,
+and I have employed three years on it, always dreading lest I
+should not have the pleasure of seeing it finished. However, I
+am still in life, thanks to God, and I flatter myself that I shall
+see my volumes printed, distributed, and read. If they be not
+praised, I hope at least they will not be despised. I shall not be
+accused of vanity or presumption in daring to hope for some
+share of favor for my Memoirs; for had I thought that I should
+absolutely displease, I would not have taken so much pains; and
+if in the good and ill which I say of myself, the balance inclines
+to the favorable side, I owe more to nature than to study. All
+the application employed by me in the construction of my pieces
+has been that of not disfiguring nature, and all the care taken
+by me in my Memoirs has been that of telling only the truth.
+The criticism of my pieces may have the correction and improvement
+of comedy in view; but the criticism of my Memoirs will
+be of no advantage to literature. However, if any writer should
+think proper to employ his time on me for the sole purpose of
+vexing me, he would lose his labor. I am of a pacific disposition;
+I have always preserved my coolness of character; at my
+age I read little, and I read only amusing books.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 6488]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_CAFE" id="THE_CAFE"></a>THE CAF&Eacute;</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[A few of the opening scenes from one of the popular Venetian comedies
+are here given with occasional abridgment. They illustrate the entirely practical
+theatrical skill of Goldoni's plots, his rapid development of his characters,
+and the sound morality which prevails without being aggressively prominent.</p>
+
+<p>The permanent scene represents a small open square in Venice, or a
+rather wide street, with three shops. The middle one is in use as a caf&eacute;. To
+the right is a barber's. The one on the left is a gambling-house. Beyond the
+barber's, across a street, is seen the dancers' house, and beyond the gamblers'
+a hotel with practicable doors and windows.]</p></div>
+
+<p class="center">Ridolfo, <i>master of the caf&eacute;</i>, Trappolo, <i>a waiter, and other waiters</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Come, children, look alive, be wide awake, ready to
+serve the guests civilly and properly.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;Master dear, to tell you the truth, this early
+rising doesn't suit my complexion a bit. There's no one in sight.
+We could have slept another hour yet.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;They'll be coming presently. Besides, 'tis not so
+very early. Don't you see? The barber is open, he's in his
+shop working on hair. And look! the playing-house is open too.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;Oh, yes, indeed. The gambling-house has been
+open a good bit. They've made a night of it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Good. Master Pandolfo will have had a good profit.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;That dog always has good profit. He wins on the
+cards, he profits by usury, he shares with the sharpers. He is
+sure of all the money of whoever enters there. That poor Signor
+Eugenio&mdash;he has taken a header!</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Just look at him, how little sense he has! With a
+wife, a young woman of grace and sense,&mdash;but he runs after every
+petticoat; and then he plays like a madman. But come, go roast
+the coffee and make a fresh supply.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;Shan't I warm over yesterday's supply?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;No, make it good.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;Master has a short memory. How long since this
+shop opened?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;You know very well. 'Tis about eight months.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;Then 'tis time for a change.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;What do you mean by that?</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;When a new shop opens, they make perfect coffee.
+After six months,&mdash;hot water, thin broth. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;He's a wit. I'm in hopes he'll help the shop. To
+a shop where there's a fun-maker every one goes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 6489]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">Pandolfo, <i>keeper of the gambling-house, comes in, rubbing his eyes
+sleepily</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Master Pandolfo, will you have coffee?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;Yes, if you please.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Boys, serve coffee for Master Pandolfo. Be seated.
+Make yourself comfortable.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;No, no, I must drink it at once and get back to
+work.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Are they playing yet in the shop?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;They are busy at two tables.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;So early?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;They are at it since yesterday.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;What game?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;An innocent game: "first and second" [<i>i.e.</i>, faro].</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;And how does it go?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;For me it goes well.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Have you amused yourself playing too?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;Yes, I took a little hand also.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Excuse me, my friend; I've no business to meddle in
+your affairs, but&mdash;it doesn't look well when the master of the
+shop plays; because if he loses he's laughed at, and if he wins
+he's suspected.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;I am content if they haven't the laugh on me. As
+for the rest, let them suspect as they please; I pay no attention.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Dear friend, we are neighbors; I shouldn't want you
+to get into trouble. You know, by your play before you have
+brought up in the court.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;I'm easily satisfied. I won a pair of sequins, and
+wanted no more.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;That's right. Pluck the quail without making it cry
+out. From whom did you win them?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;A jeweler's boy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Bad. Very bad. That tempts the boys to rob their
+masters.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;Oh, don't moralize to me. Let the greenhorns stay
+at home. I keep open for any one who wants to play.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;And has Signor Eugenio been playing this past
+night?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;He's playing yet. He hasn't dined, he hasn't slept,
+and he's lost all his money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 6490]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]&mdash;Poor young man! [<i>Aloud.</i>] And how much
+has he lost?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;A hundred sequins in cash: and now he is playing
+on credit.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;With whom is he playing?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;With the count.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;And whom else?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;With him alone.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;It seems to me an honest man shouldn't stand by
+and see people assassinated.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;Oho, my friend, if you're going to be so thin-skinned
+you'll make little money.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I don't care for that. Till now I have been in service,
+and did my duty honestly. I saved a few pennies, and with
+the help of my old master, who was Signor Eugenio's father,
+you know, I have opened this shop. With it I mean to live
+honorably and not disgrace my profession.</p>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>People from the gambling-shop call "Cards!"</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i> [<i>answering</i>]&mdash;At your service.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;For mercy's sake, get poor Signor Eugenio away
+from the table.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;For all me, he may lose his shirt: I don't care.
+[<i>Starts out.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;And the coffee&mdash;shall I charge it?</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;Not at all: we'll deal a card for it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I'm no greenhorn, my friend.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pandolfo</i>&mdash;Oh well, what does it matter? You know my visitors
+make trade for you. I am surprised that you trouble yourself
+about these little matters. [<i>Exit.</i>] ...</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A gentleman,</i> Don Marzio, <i>enters</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]&mdash;Here is the man who never stops talking,
+and always must have it his own way.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Coffee.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;At once, sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;What's the news, Ridolfo?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I couldn't say, sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Has no one appeared here at your caf&eacute; yet?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;'Tis quite early still.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 6491]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Early? It has struck nine already.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Oh no, honored sir, 'tis not seven yet.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Get away with your nonsense.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I assure you, it hasn't struck seven yet.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Get out, stupid.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;You abuse me without reason, sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;I counted the strokes just now, and I tell you it is
+nine. Besides, look at my watch: it never goes wrong. [<i>Shows it.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Very well, then; if your watch is never wrong,&mdash;it
+says a quarter to seven.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;What? That can't be. [<i>Takes out his eye-glass and
+looks.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;What do you say?</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;My watch is wrong. It is nine o'olock. I heard it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Where did you buy that watch?</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;I ordered it from London.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;They cheated you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Cheated me? How so? It is the very first quality.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;If it were a good one, it wouldn't be two hours
+wrong.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;It is always exactly right.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;But the watch says a quarter to seven, and you say
+it is nine.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;My watch is right.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Then it really is a little before seven, as I said.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;You're an insolent fellow. My watch is right: you
+talk foolishly, and I've half a mind to box your ears. [<i>His coffee
+is brought.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]&mdash;Oh, what a beast!</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Have you seen Signor Eugenio?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;No, honored sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;At home, of course, petting his wife. What an
+uxorious fellow! Always a wife! Always a wife! [<i>Drinks his
+coffee.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Anything but his wife. He's been gambling all
+night at Pandolfo's.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Just as I tell you. Always gambling.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]&mdash;"Always gambling," "Always his wife,"
+"Always" the Devil; I hope he'll catch him!</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;He came to me the other day in all secrecy, to
+beg me to lend him ten sequins on a pair of earrings of his
+wife's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 6492]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;Well, you know, every man is liable to have these
+little difficulties; but they don't care to have them known, and
+that is doubtless why he came to you, certain that you would
+tell no one.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Oh, I say nothing. I help all, and take no credit
+for it. See! Here are his wife's earrings. I lent him ten
+sequins on them. Do you think I am secured?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I'm no judge, but I think so.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Halloa, Trappolo. [<i>Trappolo enters.</i>] Here; go to
+the jeweler's yonder, show him these earrings of Signor Eugenio's
+wife, and ask him for me if they are security for ten sequins
+that I lent him.</p>
+
+<p><i>Trappolo</i>&mdash;And it doesn't harm Signor Eugenio to make his
+affairs public?</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;I am a person with whom a secret is safe. [<i>Exit
+Trappolo.</i>] Say, Ridolfo, what do you know of that dancer over
+there?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I really know nothing about her.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;I've been told the Count Leandro is her protector.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;To be frank, I don't care much for other people's
+affairs.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;But 'tis well to know things, to govern one's self
+accordingly. She has been under his protection for some time
+now, and the dancer's earnings have paid the price of the protection.
+Instead of spending anything, he devours all the poor
+wretch has. Indeed, he forces her to do what she should not.
+Oh, what a villain!</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;But I am here all day, and I can swear that no one
+goes to her house except Leandro.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;It has a back door. Fool! Fool! Always the back
+door. Fool!</p>
+
+<p><i>Ridolfo</i>&mdash;I attend to my shop: if she has a back door, what
+is it to me? I put my nose into no one's affairs.</p>
+
+<p><i>Marzio</i>&mdash;Beast! Do you speak like that to a gentleman of
+my station?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[This character of Don Marzio the slanderer is the most effective one
+in the comedy. He finally brings upon himself the bitterest ill-will of all
+the other characters, and feels himself driven out of Venice, "a land in which
+all men live at ease, all enjoy liberty, peace, and amusement, if only they
+know how to be prudent, discreet, honorable."]</p></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by William C. Lawton</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 6493]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT" id="MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT"></a>ME&Iuml;R AARON GOLDSCHMIDT</h2>
+
+<h4>(1819-1887)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capi.png" width="90" height="90" alt="I" title="I" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">n the first line of his memoirs Goldschmidt states that he
+was of "the tribe of Levi," a fact of which he was never
+unconscious, and which has given him his peculiar position
+in modern Danish literature as the exponent of the family and social
+life of the orthodox Jew. Brandes writes of Goldschmidt that: "In
+spite of his cosmopolitan spirit, he has always loved two nationalities
+above all others and equally well,&mdash;the Jewish and the Danish. He
+has looked upon himself as a sort of noble-born bastard; and with
+the bat of the fable he has said alternately
+to the mice, 'I am a mouse' and to the
+birds, 'I have wings.' He has endeavored
+to give his answer to the questions of the
+Jew's place in modern culture."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/goldschmidt.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Goldschmidt" title="Goldschmidt" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Goldschmidt</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Goldschmidt was born on the 26th of
+October, 1819. His early childhood was
+spent partly in the country, in the full freedom
+of country life, and partly in the city,
+where he was sent to school in preparation
+for the professional career his father had
+planned for him, in preference to a business
+life like his own. Goldschmidt took part
+in the religious instruction of the school, at
+the same time observing the customs of the
+Jewish ritual at home without a full understanding of its meaning,&mdash;somewhat
+as he was taught to read Hebrew without being able to
+translate a word of it into Danish. In the senior class his religious
+instructor let him join in the Bible reading, but refused to admit him
+to the catechism class; as a consequence he failed to answer a few
+questions on his examination papers, and fell just short of a maximum.
+This made him feel that he was ostracized by his Jewish
+birth, and put an end to his desire for further academic studies.</p>
+
+<p>At the age of eighteen he began his journalistic career as editor
+of a provincial paper, the care of which cost him a lawsuit and subjected
+him to a year's censorship. Soon after, he sold the paper for
+two hundred dollars, and with this money he started the Copenhagen
+weekly The Corsair, which in no time gained a large reading public,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 6494]</a></span>
+and whose Friday appearance was awaited with weekly increasing
+interest. The editorials were given up to aesthetic and poetic discussions,
+and the small matter treated the questions of the day
+with a pointed wit that soon made The Corsair as widely feared
+as it was eagerly read. He had reached only the third number when
+it was put under censorship, and lawsuits followed in quick succession.
+Goldschmidt did not officially assume the responsibility of
+editor, although it was an open secret that he was author of most of
+the articles; publicly the blows were warded off by pretended owners
+whose names were often changed. One of the few men whom The
+Corsair left unattacked was S&ouml;ren Kierkegaard, for whose literary and
+scholarly talents Goldschmidt had great respect. That The Corsair
+was under the ban of the law, so to speak, and had brought him
+even a four-days' imprisonment, was a small matter to Goldschmidt;
+but when Kierkegaard passed a scathing moral judgment on the paper,
+Goldschmidt sold out for four thousand dollars and started with this
+sum on his travels, "to get rid of wit and learn something better."</p>
+
+<p>In 1847 he was again back in Copenhagen, and began life anew as
+editor of North and South, a weekly containing excellent aesthetic
+and critical studies, but mainly important on account of its social
+and political influence. Already, in the time of The Corsair, Goldschmidt
+had begun his work as novelist with 'A Jew,' written in
+1843-45, and had taken possession of the field which became his own.
+It was a promising book, that met with immediate appreciation.
+Even Kierkegaard forgot for a moment the editor of The Corsair in
+his praise. The Jews, however, looked upon the descriptions of intimate
+Jewish family life somewhat as a desecration of the Holy of
+Holies; and if broad-minded enough to forgive this, thought it unwise
+to accentuate the Jew's position as an element apart in social life.
+It argues a certain narrowness in Goldschmidt that he has never
+been able to refrain from striking this note, and Brandes blames him
+for the bad taste of "continually serving his grandmother with sharp
+sauce."</p>
+
+<p>Goldschmidt wrote another long novel, 'Homeless'; but it is principally
+in his shorter works, such as 'Love Stories from Many Countries'
+'Maser,' and 'Avromche Nightingale,' that he has left a great
+and good gift to Danish literature. The shorter his composition, the
+more perfect was his treatment. He was above all a stylist.</p>
+
+<p>He always had a tendency to mysticism, and in his last years
+he was greatly taken up with his theory of Nemesis, on which he
+wrote a book, containing much that is suggestive but also much that
+is obviously the result of the wish to make everything conform to a
+pet theory. His lasting importance will be as the first and foremost
+influence on modern Danish prose.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 6495]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="ASSAR_AND_MIRJAM" id="ASSAR_AND_MIRJAM"></a>ASSAR AND MIRJAM</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Love Stories from Many Countries'</h4>
+
+<p>Assar, son of Juda, a valiant and jealous youth, came walking
+toward Modin, when from one of the hills he saw a great
+sight on the plain. Here warriors rode a chariot race in
+a great circle; many people stood about, calling loudly to the
+drivers and the spirited horses. Yonder were horsemen in golden
+armor, trying to catch rings on their spears; and drums were
+beaten in honor of the winner. On the outskirts of the plain
+was a little grove of olive-trees; it was not dense. In the grove
+stood a nude woman hewn in marble; her hair was of gold and
+her eyes were black, and young girls danced around her with
+garlands of flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Then Assar said:&mdash;"Woe unto us! These are Jewish maidens
+dancing around the idol, and these are Greek men carrying arms
+on our holy ground and playing at games as if they were in their
+home! and no Jewish man makes the game dangerous for them!"</p>
+
+<p>He went down the hill and came to a thicket reaching down
+to a little brook. On the other side of the brook stood a Greek
+centurion, a young man, and he was talking to a girl, who stood
+on this side of the brook on the edge of the thicket.</p>
+
+<p>The warrior said:&mdash;"Thou sayest that thy God forbids thee to
+go over into the grove. What a dark and unfriendly God they
+have given thee, beautiful child of Juda! He hates thy youth,
+and the joy of life, and the roses which ought to crown thy
+black hair. My gods are of a friendlier mind toward mortals.
+Every morning Apollo drives his glorious span over the arch of
+the heavens and lights warriors to their deeds; Selene's milder
+torch glows at night for lovers, and to those who have worshiped
+her in this life beautiful Aphrodite gives eternal life on her
+blessed isle. It is her statue standing in the grove. When thou
+givest thyself under her protection she gives thee in return a
+hero for thy faithful lover, and later on, graceful daughter of
+Juda, some god will set thee with thy radiant eyes among the
+stars, to be a light to mortals and a witness of the beauty of
+earthly love."</p>
+
+<p>The young girl might have answered; but at this moment
+Assar was near her, and she knew him, and he saw that it was
+Mirjam, Rabbi Mattathew's daughter,&mdash;the woman he loved, and
+who was his promised bride. She turned and followed him; but
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 6496]</a></span>
+the warrior on the other side of the brook called out, "What
+right hast thou to lead this maiden away?"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "I have no right."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why dost thou go with him, sweet daughter of Juda?"
+cried the warrior.</p>
+
+<p>Mirjam did not answer, but Assar said, "Because she has not
+yet given up serving her Master."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is her master?" asked the warrior. "I can buy thee
+freedom, my beautiful child!"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "I wish thou may'st see him."<a name="FNanchor_A_5" id="FNanchor_A_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p>
+
+<p>The warrior, who could not cross the brook at this place, or
+anywhere near it, called as they went away, "Tell me thy master's
+name!"</p>
+
+<p>Assar turned and answered, "I will beg him come to thee."</p>
+
+<p>A hill hid them from the eyes of the warrior, and Mirjam
+said, "Assar!"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "Mirjam! I have never loved thee as dearly
+as I do to-day&mdash;I do not know if it is a curse or a blessing
+which is in my veins. Thou hast listened to the words of the
+heathen."</p>
+
+<p>"I listened to them because he spoke kindly; but I have not
+betrayed the Lord nor thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast permitted his words to reach thy ear and thy
+soul."</p>
+
+<p>"What could I do, Assar? He spoke kindly."</p>
+
+<p>Assar stood still, and said to himself, "Yes, he spoke kindly.
+They do speak kindly. And they spoke kind words to the poor
+girls who danced around the idol in the grove. Had they spoken
+harsh and threatening words, they would not have danced."</p>
+
+<p>Again he stood still, and said to himself, "If they came using
+force, the rabbi would kill her and then himself, or she would
+throw herself from a rock of her own free will. But who can
+set a guard to watch over kind words?"</p>
+
+<p>The third time he stood still, and said, "O Israel, thou canst
+not bear kind words!"</p>
+
+<p>Mirjam thought that he suspected her; and she stood still
+and said, "I am a rabbi's daughter!"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "O Mirjam, I am Assar, and I will be the son
+of my own actions."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 6497]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake," exclaimed Mirjam, "do not seek that warrior,
+and do not enter into a quarrel with him! He will kill thee
+or have thee put into prison. There is misery enough in Israel!
+The strangers have entered our towns. Let us bend our heads
+and await the will of God, but not challenge! Assar, I should
+die if anything happened to thee!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what would I do if anything happened to thee! My
+head swims! Whither should I flee? Would thy father and thy
+brothers flee to the wilds of the mountains?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have spoken of that. But there is no place to flee to
+and not much to flee from; for although the heathen have taken
+gold and goods, yet they are kind this time."</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "Oh yes, they are kind; I had almost forgotten
+it. Mirjam, if I go away wilt thou believe, and go on believing,
+that I go on God's errand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Assar, a dark look from thee is dearer to me than the kindest
+from any heathen, and a word of thine is more to me than
+many witnesses. But do not leave me! Stay and protect me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I go to protect thee! I go to the heights and to the depths
+to call forth the God of Israel. Await his coming!" ...</p>
+
+<p>Assar went to the King, Antiochus Epiphanes, bent low before
+him, and said, "May the Master of the world guide thy steps!"</p>
+
+<p>The King looked at him well pleased, and asked his name;
+whereupon Assar answered that he was a man of the tribe of
+Juda.</p>
+
+<p>The King said, "Few of thy countrymen come to serve me!"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "If thou wilt permit thy servant a bold word,
+King, the fault is thine."</p>
+
+<p>And when the King, astonished, asked how this might be,
+Assar answered, "Because thou art too kind, lord."</p>
+
+<p>The King turned to his adviser, and said laughingly, "When
+we took the treasures of the temple in Jerusalem, they found it
+hard enough."</p>
+
+<p>"O King," said Assar, "silver and gold and precious stones
+can be regained, and the Israelites know this; but thou lettest
+them keep that which cannot be regained when once it is lost."</p>
+
+<p>The King answered quickly, "What is that?" and Assar replied:&mdash;"The
+Israelites have a God, who is very powerful but
+also very jealous. He has always helped them in the time of
+need if they held near to him and did not worship strange gods;
+for this his jealousy will not bear. When they do this he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 6498]</a></span>
+forsakes them. But thou, O King, hast taken their silver and
+gold and jewels, but hast let them keep the God who gives it all
+back to them. They know this; and so they smile at thee, and
+await that thou shalt be thrown into the dust by him, and they
+will arise his avengers, and persecute thy men."</p>
+
+<p>The King paled; he remembered his loss in Egypt, and he
+feared that if the enemy pursued him he should find help in
+Israel; and he said, "What ought we to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied: "If thou wilt permit thy servant to utter his
+humble advice, thou shouldst use severity and forbid their praying
+to the God they call Jehovah, and order them to pray to thy
+gods."</p>
+
+<p>The King's adviser looked at Assar and asked, "Hast thou
+offered up sacrifice to our gods?"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied, "I am ready."</p>
+
+<p>They led him to the altar, and on the way thither Assar
+said:&mdash;"Lord, all-powerful God! Thou who seest the heart and
+not alone the deeds of the hand, be my witness! It is written:
+'And it shall happen in that same hour that I shall wipe out the
+name of idols out of the land, and they shall be remembered
+no more, and the unclean spirit shall I cause to depart from the
+country.' Do thou according to thy word, O Lord! Amen!"</p>
+
+<p>When the sacrifice was brought, Assar was dressed in festive
+robes on the word of the King, and a place was given him
+among the King's friends, and orders were sent out throughout
+the country, according to what he had said.</p>
+
+<p>And to Modin too came the King's messenger; and when the
+rabbi heard of it, he went with his five sons to the large prayer-house,
+and read maledictions over those who worshiped idols and
+blessings over those who were faithful to Jehovah. And those
+who were present noticed that the rabbi's eldest son, Judas Maccab&aelig;us,
+carried a sword under his mantle.</p>
+
+<p>And when they came out of the prayer-house they saw that a
+heathen altar had been built, and there was a Jew making his
+sacrifice; and when Rabbi Mattathew saw this, he hastened to the
+spot and seized the knife of sacrifice and thrust it into the Jew's
+breast. The centurion who stood by, and who was the same that
+had previously talked to Mirjam the rabbi's daughter at the
+brook, would kill the rabbi; but Judas Maccab&aelig;us drew his
+sword quickly, and struck the centurion in the throat and killed
+him. Then the King's men gathered; but the street was narrow,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 6499]</a></span>
+and Judas Maccab&aelig;us went last and shielded all, until the night
+came and they had got their women together and could flee to
+the mountains. And then began the fight of the men of Juda
+against the Macedonians, the Greeks, and the Assyrians, and they
+killed those of the King's men who pursued them into the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Then King Antiochus the temple-robber said to Assar, "This
+is thy advice!" to which Assar replied: "No, King; this is the
+advice of thy warriors, since they allow the rebels to escape and
+do not treat them without mercy. For this know, O King, that
+so long as thou art merciful to this people there is no hope."</p>
+
+<p>Then there were issued strict orders to torture and kill all
+who refused to obey the King's command; and all those in Israel
+in whom Jehovah was still living rose to fight with Mattathew
+and his sons, and men and women, yea, children even, were
+moved to suffer death for the Lord and his law.</p>
+
+<p>But at this time it happened that King Antiochus the temple-destroyer
+was visited by his shameful disease, and he sent messengers
+with rich gifts to all oracles and temples to seek help;
+but they could find none.</p>
+
+<p>Then he said to Assar, "Thou saidst once that the God of
+Israel was a mighty God; could not <i>he</i> cure me of my disease?"</p>
+
+<p>Assar replied: "I have indeed heard from my childhood that
+the God of Israel is a mighty God; but O King, thou wilt not
+give in to that hard people and make peace with their God?"</p>
+
+<p>The King answered, "I must live! How can he be pacified?"</p>
+
+<p>Assar said, "It is too heavy a sacrifice for so great a king
+as thee. Their wise men assert that God has given them the
+country for a possession, and it would be necessary for thee not
+only to allow them to worship their God, but also to call back
+thy men and make a covenant with them so that they should
+merely pay a tribute to thee. But this is more than I can
+advise."</p>
+
+<p>The King answered, "Much does a man give for his life.
+Dost thou believe that he is a great God?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen a great proof of it, lord."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"This: that even a greatness like thine was as nothing to his."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not a dishonor to be smaller than the Immortals. Go
+and prepare all, according to what we have spoken."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 6500]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then Assar prepared all and had the King's men called back,
+and promised the inhabitants peace and led the King on his way
+to Jerusalem; and they passed by Modin.</p>
+
+<p>And the King's sufferings being very great, he had himself
+carried into the house of prayers, before the holy, and he prayed
+to the God of Israel. And the men of Juda stood around him;
+they stood high and he lay low, and they had saved their souls.</p>
+
+<p>But when the King was carried out, one of the Maccab&aelig;an
+warriors recognized Assar and cried out, "Thou hast offered up
+sacrifices to idols, and from thee have come the evil counsels
+which have cost precious blood! Thou shalt be wiped off the
+earth!"</p>
+
+<p>He drew his sword and aimed at him, but Mirjam, who had
+come up, threw herself between them with the cry, "He called
+forth Israel's God!" And the steel which was meant for him
+pierced her.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Olga Flinch.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 6501]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GOLDSMITH" id="GOLDSMITH"></a>
+<span class="caption">O. GOLDSMITH.</span>
+<img src="images/goldsmith.jpg" width="100%" alt="O. GOLDSMITH." title="O. GOLDSMITH." />
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH" id="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"></a>OLIVER GOLDSMITH</h2>
+
+<h4>(1728-1774)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capo.png" width="90" height="90" alt="O" title="O" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">liver Goldsmith was born at Pallas, County Longford, Ireland,
+November 10th, 1728. That was the year in which
+Pope issued his 'Dunciad,' Gay his 'Beggar's Opera,' and
+Thomson his 'Spring.' Goldsmith's father was a clergyman of the
+Established Church. In 1730 the family removed to Lissoy, a better
+living than that of Pallas. Oliver's school days in and around Westmeath
+were unsatisfactory; so also his course at Trinity, 1744 to 1749.
+For the next two years he loafed at Ballymahon, living on his mother,
+then a widow, and making vain attempts to take orders, to teach, to
+enter a law course, to sail for America. He was a bad sixpence.
+Finally his uncle Contarine, who saw good stuff in the awkward,
+ugly, humorous, and reckless youth, got him off to Edinburgh, where
+he studied medicine till 1754.</p>
+
+<p>In 1754 he is studying, or pretending to study, at Leyden. In 1755
+and 1756 he is singing, fluting, and otherwise "beating" his way
+through Europe, whence he returns with a mythical M. B. degree.
+From 1756 to 1759 he is in London, teaching, serving an apothecary,
+practicing medicine, reading proof, writing as a hack, planning to practice
+surgery in Coromandel, failing to qualify as a hospital mate, and
+in general only not starving. In 1759 Dr. Percy finds him in Green
+Arbor Court amid a colony of washerwomen, writing an 'Enquiry
+into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe.' Next follows
+the appearance of that work, and his acquaintance with publishers
+and men of letters. In 1761, with Percy, comes Johnson to visit him.
+In 1764 Goldsmith is one of the members of the famous Literary Club,
+where he counts among his friends, besides Percy and Johnson, Reynolds,
+Boswell, Garrick, Burke, and others who shone with their own
+or reflected light. The rest of his life, spent principally in or near
+London, is associated with his literary career. He died April 4th,
+1774, and was buried near the Temple Church.</p>
+
+<p>Goldsmith was an essayist and critic, a story-writer, a poet, a
+comic dramatist, and a literary drudge: the last all the time, the
+others "between whiles." His drudgery produced such works as the
+'Memoirs of Voltaire,' the 'Life of Nash,' two Histories of England,
+Histories of Rome and Greece, Lives of Parnell and Bolingbroke.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 6502]</a></span>
+The 'History of Animated Nature' was undertaken as an industry,
+but it reads, as Johnson said, "like a Persian tale,"&mdash;and of course,
+the more Persian the less like nature. For the prose of Goldsmith
+writing for a suit of clothes or for immortality is all of a piece,
+inimitable. "Nothing," says he, in his 'Essay on Taste,' "has been
+so often explained, and yet so little understood, as simplicity in writing....
+It is no other than beautiful nature, without affectation
+or extraneous ornament."</p>
+
+<p>This ingenuous elegance is the accent of Goldsmith's work in
+verse and prose. It is nature improved, not from without but by
+exquisite and esoteric art, the better to prove its innate virtue and
+display its artless charm. Such a style is based upon a delicate
+"sensibility to the graces of natural and moral beauty and decorum."
+Hence the ideographic power, the directness, the sympathy, the
+lambent humor that characterize the 'Essays,' the 'Vicar,' the 'Deserted
+Village,' and 'She Stoops to Conquer.' This is the "plain
+language of ancient faith and sincerity" that, pretending to no
+novelty, renovated the prose of the eighteenth century, knocked the
+stilts from under Addison and Steele, tipped half the Latinity out of
+Johnson, and readjusted his ballast. Goldsmith goes without sprawling
+or tiptoeing; he sails without rolling. He borrows the carelessness
+but not the ostentation of the Spectator; the dignity but not the
+ponderosity of 'Rasselas'; and produces the prose of natural ease,
+the sweetest English of the century. It in turn prefaced the way
+for Charles Lamb, Hunt, and Sydney Smith. "It were to be wished
+that we no longer found pleasure with the inflated style," writes
+Goldsmith in his 'Polite Learning.' "We should dispense with loaded
+epithet and dressing up trifles with dignity.... Let us, instead
+of writing finely, try to write naturally; not hunt after lofty expressions
+to deliver mean ideas, nor be forever gaping when we only
+mean to deliver a whisper."</p>
+
+<p>Just this naturalness constitutes the charm of the essay on 'The
+Bee' (1759), and of the essays collected in 1765. We do not read him
+for information: whether he knows more or less of his subject,
+whether he writes of Charles XII., or Dress, The Opera, Poetry, or
+Education, we read him for simplicity and humor. Still, his critical
+estimates, while they may not always square with ours, evince not
+only good sense and &aelig;sthetic principle, but a range of reading not
+at all ordinary. When he condemns Hamlet's great soliloquy we may
+smile, but in judicial respect for the father of our drama he yields to
+none of his contemporaries. The selections that he includes in his
+'Beauties of English Poetry' would argue a conventional taste; but in
+his 'Essay on Poetry Distinguished from the Other Arts,' he not only
+defines poetry in terms that might content the Wordsworthians, he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 6503]</a></span>
+also to a certain extent anticipates Wordsworth's estimate of poetic
+figures.</p>
+
+<p>While he makes no violent breach with the classical school, he
+prophesies the critical doctrine of the nineteenth century. He calls
+for the "energetic language of simple nature, which is now grown
+into disrepute." "If the production does not keep nature in view, it
+will be destitute of truth and probability, without which the beauties
+of imitation cannot subsist." Still he by no means falls into the
+quagmire of realism. For, continues he, "if on the other hand the
+imitation is so close as to be mistaken for nature, the pleasure will
+then cease, because the [Greek: mim&ecirc;sis] or imitation, no longer appears."</p>
+
+<p>Even when wrong, Goldsmith is generally half-way right; and this
+is especially true of the critical judgments contained in his first published
+book. The impudence of 'The Enquiry' (1759) is delicious.
+What this young Irishman, fluting it through Europe some five years
+before, had <i>not</i> learned about the 'Condition of Polite Learning' in
+its principal countries, might fill a ponderous folio. What he did
+learn, eked out with harmless misstatement, flashes of inspiration, and
+a clever argument to prove that criticism has always been the foe of
+letters, managed to fill a respectable duodecimo, and brought him to
+the notice of publishers and scholars.</p>
+
+<p>The essay has catholicity, independence, and wit, and it carries
+itself with whimsical ease. Every sentence steps out sprightly. Of
+the French Encyclop&eacute;dies: "Wits and dunces contribute their share,
+and Diderot as well as Desmaretz are candidates for oblivion. The
+genius of the first supplies the gale of favor, and the latter adds the
+useful ballast of stupidity." Of the Germans: "They write through
+volumes, while they do not think through a page.... Were angels
+to write books, they never would write folios." And again: "If
+criticism could have improved the taste of a people, the Germans
+would have been the most polite nation alive." That settles the Encyclopedias
+and the Germans. So each nationality is sententiously
+reviewed and dismissed with an epigram that even to-day sounds
+not altogether unjust, rather amusing and urbane than acrimonious.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not until Goldsmith began the series of letters in the
+Public Ledger (1760), that was afterwards published as 'The Citizen
+of the World' that he took London. These letters purport to be
+from a philosophic Chinaman in Europe to his friends at home.
+Grave, gay, serene, ironical, they were at once an amusing image
+and a genial censor of current manners and morals. They are no
+less creative than critical; equally classic for the characters they
+contain: the Gentleman in Black, Beau Tibbs and his wife, the
+pawnbroker's widow, Tim Syllabub, and the procession of minor personages,
+romantic or ridiculous, but unique,&mdash;equally classic for these
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 6504]</a></span>
+characters and for the satire of the conception. These are Goldsmith's
+best sketches. Though the prose is not always precise, it
+seems to be clear, and is simple. The writer cares more for the
+judicious than the sublime; for the quaint, the comic, and the agreeable
+than the pathetic. He chuckles with sly laughter&mdash;genial, sympathetic;
+he looses his arrow phosphorescent with wit, but not barbed,
+dipped in something subacid,&mdash;straight for the heart. Not Irving
+alone, but Thackeray, stands in line of descent from the Goldsmith
+of the 'Citizen.'</p>
+
+<p>'The Traveller,' polished <i>ad unguem</i>, appeared in 1764, and placed
+Goldsmith in the first rank of poets then living; but of that later.
+There is good reason for believing that his masterpiece in prose,
+'The Vicar of Wakefield,' had been written as early as 1762, although
+it was not published until 1766. It made Goldsmith's mark as a storyteller.
+One can readily imagine how, after the grim humor of Smollett,
+the broad and <i>risqu&eacute;</i> realism of Fielding, the loitering of Sterne,
+and the moralizing of Richardson, the public would seize with a
+sense of relief upon this unpretentious chronicle of a country clergyman's
+life: his peaceful home, its ruin, its restoration. Not because
+the narrative was quieter and simpler, shorter and more direct than
+other narratives, but because to its humor, realism, grace, and depth
+it added the charity of First Corinthians Thirteenth. England soon
+discovered that the borders of the humanities had been extended;
+that the Vicar and his "durable" wife, Moses, Olivia with the prenatal
+tendency to romance, Sophia, the graceless Jenkinson,&mdash;the
+habit and temper of the whole,&mdash;were a new province. The prose
+idyl, with all its beauty and charity, does not entitle Goldsmith to
+rank with the great novelists; but of its kind, in spite of faults of
+inaccuracy, improbability, and impossibility, it is first and best. Goethe
+read and re-read it with moral and &aelig;sthetic benefit; and the spirit
+of Goldsmith is not far to seek in 'Hermann and Dorothea.' 'The
+Vicar' is perhaps the most popular of English classics in foreign
+lands.</p>
+
+<p>In poetry, if Goldsmith did not write much, it was for lack of
+opportunity. What he did write is good, nearly all of it. The philosophy
+of 'The Traveller' (1764) and the political economy of 'The
+Deserted Village' (1770) may be dubious, but the poetry is true.
+There is in both a heartiness which discards the formalized emotion,
+prefers the touch of nature and the homely adjective. The characteristic
+is almost feminine in the description of Auburn: "<i>Dear</i>
+lovely bowers"; it is inevitable, artless, in 'The Traveller': "His
+first, best country ever is at home." But on the other hand, the
+<i>curiosa felicitas</i> marks every line, the nice selection of just the word
+or phrase richest in association, redolent of tradition, harmonious,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 6505]</a></span>
+classically proper, but still natural, true, and apt. "My heart untravell'd
+fondly turns to thee"&mdash;not a word but is hearty; and for
+all that, the line is stamped with the academic authority of centuries:
+"Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt." Both poems
+are characterized by the infrequency of epithet and figure,&mdash;the infrequency
+that marks sincerity and that heightens pleasure,&mdash;and by a
+cunning in the use of proper names, resonant, remote, suggestive:
+"On Idra's cliffs or Arno's shelvy side,"&mdash;the cunning of a musical
+poem. Both poems vibrate with personality, recall the experience
+of the writer. It would be hard to choose between them; but 'The
+Deserted Village' strikes the homelier chord, comes nearer, with its
+natural pathos, its sidelong smile, and its perennial novelty, to the
+heart of him who knows.</p>
+
+<p>Goldsmith is less eloquent but more natural than Dryden, less
+precise but more simple than Pope. In poetic sensibility he has the
+advantage of both. Were the volume of his verse not so slight, were
+his conceptions more sublime, and their embodiment more epic or
+dramatic, he might rank with the greatest of his century. As it is,
+in imaginative insight he has no superior in the eighteenth century;
+in observation, pathos, representative power, no equal: Dryden, Pope,
+Gray, Thomson, Young,&mdash;none but Collins approaches him. The
+reflective or descriptive poem can of course not compete with the
+drama, epic, or even lyric of corresponding merit in its respective
+kind. But Goldsmith's poems are the best of their kind, better than
+all but the best in other kinds. His conception of life is more generous
+and direct, hence truer and gentler, than that of the Augustan
+age. Raising no revolt against classical principles, he rejects the
+artifices of decadent classicism, returns to nature, and expresses <i>it</i>
+simply. He is consequently in this respect the harbinger of Cowper,
+Crabbe, Bloomfield, Clare, Wordsworth, and Coleridge. In technique
+also he breaks away from Pope. His larger movement, his easier
+modulation, his richer tone, his rarer epithet and epigram, his metaphor
+"glowing from the heart," mark the defection from the poetry
+of cold conceit.</p>
+
+<p>For lack of space we can only refer to the romantic quality of his
+ballad 'Edwin and Angelina' (1765), the spontaneous humor of 'The
+Haunch of Venison,' and the exquisite satire of 'Retaliation' (1774).</p>
+
+<p>To appreciate the historical position of Goldsmith's comedies, one
+must regard them as a reaction against the school that had held the
+stage since the beginning of the century&mdash;a "genteel" and "sentimental"
+school, fearing to expose vice or ridicule absurdity. But
+Goldsmith felt that absurdity was the comic poet's game. Reverting
+therefore to Farquhar and the Comedy of Manners, he revived that
+species, at the same time infusing a strain of the "humors" of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 6506]</a></span>
+tribe of Ben. Hence the approbation that welcomed his first comedy,
+and the applause that greeted the second. For 'The Good-natured
+Man' (1768) and 'She Stoops to Conquer' (1773) did by example what
+Hugh Kelly's 'Piety in Pattens' aimed to do by ridicule,&mdash;ousted
+the hybrid comedy (tradesman's tragedy, Voltaire called it) of which
+'The Conscious Lovers' had been the most tolerable specimen, and
+'The School for Lovers' the most decorous and dull.</p>
+
+<p>But "Goldy" had not only the gift of weighing the times, he had
+the gift of the popular dramatist. His <i>dramatis person&aelig;</i> are on the
+one hand nearly all legitimate descendants of the national comedy,
+though none is a copy from dramatic predecessors; on the other
+hand, they are in every instance "imitations" of real life, more than
+once of some aspect of his own life; but none is so close an imitation
+as to detract from the pleasure which fiction should afford. The former
+quality makes his characters look familiar; the latter, true. So
+he accomplishes the feat most difficult for the dramatist: while idealizing
+the individual in order to realize the type, he does not for a
+moment lose the sympathy of his audience.</p>
+
+<p>Even in his earlier comedy these two characteristics are manifest.
+In the world of drama, young Honeywood is the legitimate descendant
+of Massinger's Wellborn on the one side, and of Congreve's Valentine
+Legend on the other, with a more distant collateral resemblance
+to Ben Jonson's Younger Knowell. But in the field of experience
+this "Good-natured Man" is that aspect of "Goldy" himself which,
+when he was poorest, made him not so poor but that Irishmen poorer
+still could live on him; that aspect of the glorious "idiot in affairs"
+which could make to the Earl of Northumberland, willing to be kind,
+no other suggestion of his wants than that he had a <i>brother</i> in Ireland,
+"poor, a clergyman, and much in need of help." Similarly might
+those rare creations Croaker and Jack Lofty be traced to their predecessors
+in the field of drama, even though remote. That they had
+their analogies in the life of Goldsmith, and have them in the lives
+of others, it is unnecessary to prove. But graphic as these characters
+are, they cannot make of 'The Good-natured Man' more than a passable
+second to 'She Stoops to Conquer.' For the premises of the
+plot are absurd, if not impossible; the complication is not much more
+natural than that of a Punch-and-Judy show, and the denouement but
+one shade less improbable than that of 'The Vicar of Wakefield.'
+The value of the play is principally historical, not &aelig;sthetic.</p>
+
+<p>Congreve's 'Love for Love,' Vanbrugh's 'Relapse, Farquhar's
+'Beaux' Stratagem,' Goldsmith's 'She Stoops to Conquer,' and Sheridan's
+'School for Scandal,' are the best comedies written since Jonson,
+Fletcher, and Massinger held the stage. In plot and diction 'She
+Stoops to Conquer' is equaled by Congreve; in character-drawing by
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 6507]</a></span>
+Vanbrugh; in dramatic ease by Farquhar, in observation and wit by
+Sheridan: but by none is it equaled in humor, and in naturalness of
+dialogue it is <i>facile princeps</i>. Here again the characterization presents
+the twofold charm of universality and reality. Young Marlow is the
+traditional lover of the type of Young Bellair, Mirabell, and Aimwell,
+suggesting each in turn but different from all; he is also, in his combination
+of embarrassment and impudence, not altogether unlike the
+lad Oliver who, years ago, on a journey back to school, had mistaken
+Squire Featherstone's house in Ardagh for an inn.</p>
+
+<p>A similar adjustment of dramatic type and historic individual contributes
+to the durability of Tony Lumpkin. In his <i>dramatis persona</i>
+he is a practical joker of the family of Diccon and Truewit, and first
+cousin on the Blenkinsop side to that horse-flesh Sir Harry Beagle.
+But Anthony is more than the practical joker or the squire booby:
+he is a near relative of Captain O'Blunder and that whole countryside
+of generous, touch-and-go Irishmen; while in reality, <i>in propria
+persona</i>, he is that aspect of Noll Goldsmith that "lived the
+buckeen" in Ballymahon. Of the other characters of the play, Hardcastle,
+Mrs. Hardcastle, and Kate have a like prerogative of immortality.
+They are royally descended and personally unique.</p>
+
+<p>The comedy has been absurdly called farcical. There is much
+less of the farcical than in many a so-called "legitimate" comedy.
+None of the circumstances are purely fortuitous; none unnecessary.
+Humor and caprice tend steadily to complicate the action, and by natural
+interaction prepare the way for the denouement. The misunderstandings
+are the more piquant because of their manifest irony and
+their ephemeral character. Indeed, if any fault is to be found with
+the play, it is that Goldsmith did not let it resolve itself without the
+assistance of Sir Charles Marlow.</p>
+
+<p>One peculiarity not yet mentioned is illustrative of Goldsmith's
+method. A system of mutual borrowing characterizes his works. The
+same thought, in the same or nearly the same language, occurs in
+half a dozen. 'The Enquiry' lends a phrase to 'The Citizen,' who
+passes it on to the 'Vicar,' who, thinking it too good to keep, hands
+it over to the 'Good-natured Man,' whence it is borrowed by 'She
+Stoops to Conquer,' and turned to look like new,&mdash;like a large family
+of sisters with a small wardrobe in common. This habit does not
+indicate poverty of invention in Goldsmith, but associative imagination
+and artistic conservatism.</p>
+
+<p>Goldsmith was the only Irish story-writer and poet of his century.
+Four Irishmen adorned the prose of the period: Goldsmith is as eminent
+in the natural style as Swift in the satiric, or Steele in the polished,
+or Burke in the grand. In comedy the Irish led; but Steele,
+Macklin, Murphy, Kelly, do not compare with Farquhar, Sheridan, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 6508]</a></span>
+Goldsmith. The worst work of these is good, and their best is the
+best of the century.</p>
+
+<p>Turning to Goldsmith the man, what the "draggle-tail Muses"
+paid him we find him spending on dress and rooms and jovial magnificence,
+on relatives or countrymen or the unknown poor, with such
+freedom that he is never relieved of the necessity of drudgery. Still,
+sensitive, good-natured, improvident, Irish,&mdash;and a genius,&mdash;Goldsmith
+lived as happy a life as his disposition would allow. He had
+the companionship of congenial friends, the love of men like Johnson
+and Reynolds, the final assurance that his art was appreciated by the
+public. To be sure, he was never out of debt, but that was his own
+fault; he was never out of credit either. "Was there ever poet so
+trusted?" exclaimed Johnson, after this poet had got beyond reach
+of his creditors. His difficulties however affected him as they affect
+most Irishmen,&mdash;only by cataclysms. He was serene or wretched, but
+generally the former: he packed <i>noctes c&#339;n&aelig;que de&ucirc;m</i> by the dozen
+into his life. "There is no man," said Reynolds, "whose company is
+more liked." But maybe that was because his na&iuml;vet&eacute;, his brogue,
+his absent-mindedness, and his blunders (real or apparent) made him
+a ready butt for ridicule, not at the hands of Reynolds or Johnson,
+but of Beauclerk and the rest. For though his humor was sly, and
+his wit inimitable, Goldsmith's conversation was queer. It seemed to
+go by contraries. If permitted, he would ramble along in his hesitating,
+inconsequential fashion, on any subject under heaven&mdash;"too
+eager," thought Johnson, "to get on without knowing how he should
+get off." But if ignored, he would sit silent and apart,&mdash;sulking,
+thought Boswell. In fact, both the Dictator and laird of Auchinleck
+were of a mind that he tried too much to shine in conversation, for
+which he had no temper. But "Goldy's" <i>bons-mots</i>&mdash;such as the
+"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur <i>istis</i>" to Johnson, as they
+passed under the heads on Temple Bar,&mdash;make it evident that Garrick,
+with his</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Here lies Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and most of the members of the Literary Club, did not understand
+their Irishman. A timidity born of rough experience may have occasionally
+oppressed, a sensitiveness to ridicule or indifference may
+have confused him, a desire for approbation may frequently have led
+him to speak when silence had been golden; but that his conversation
+was "foolish" is the judgment of Philistines who make conversation
+an industry, not an amusement or an art.</p>
+
+<p>Boswell himself recounts more witty sayings than incomprehensible.
+And the "incomprehensible" are so only to Boswells and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 6509]</a></span>
+Hawkinses, who can hardly be expected to appreciate a humor, the
+vein of which is a mockery of their own solemn stupidity. Probably
+Goldsmith did say unconsidered things; he liked to think aloud in
+company, to "rattle on" for diversion. Keenly alive to the riches of
+language, he was the more likely to feel the embarrassment of impromptu
+selection; and while he was too much of a genius to keep
+count of every pearl, he was too considerate of his fellows to cast
+pearls only. But most of his fellows (Reynolds excepted) appreciated
+neither his drollery nor his unselfishness,&mdash;had not been educated up
+to the type of Irishman that with an artistic love of fun, is ever
+ready to promote the gayety of nations by sacrificing itself in the
+interest of laughter. For none but an artist can, without cracking a
+smile, offer up his wit on the altar of his humor.</p>
+
+<p>Prior describes Goldsmith as something under the middle size,
+sturdy, active, apparently capable of endurance; pale, forehead and
+upper lip rather projecting, face round, pitted with small-pox, and
+marked with strong lines of thinking. But Reynolds's painting idealizes
+and therefore best expresses the man, his twofold nature: on the
+one hand, self-depreciatory, generous, and improvident; on the other,
+aspiring, hungry for approval, laborious. Just such a man as would
+gild poverty with a smile, decline patronage and force his last sixpence
+on a street-singer, pile Pelion on Ossa for his publishers and
+turn out cameos for art.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 462px;">
+<img src="images/sign283.png" width="462" height="120" alt="Charles Mills Gayley" title="Charles Mills Gayley" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_VICARS_FAMILY_BECOME_AMBITIOUS" id="THE_VICARS_FAMILY_BECOME_AMBITIOUS"></a>THE VICAR'S FAMILY BECOME AMBITIOUS</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'</h4>
+
+<p>I now began to find that all my long and painful lectures upon
+temperance, simplicity, and contentment were entirely disregarded.
+The distinctions lately paid us by our betters awakened
+that pride which I had laid asleep, but not removed. Our
+windows again, as formerly, were filled with washes for the neck
+and face. The sun was dreaded as an enemy to the skin without
+doors, and the fire as a spoiler of the complexion within.
+My wife observed that rising too early would hurt her daughters'
+eyes, that working after dinner would redden their noses, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 6510]</a></span>
+she convinced me that the hands never looked so white as when
+they did nothing. Instead therefore of finishing George's shirts,
+we now had them new-modeling their old gauzes, or flourishing
+upon catgut. The poor Miss Flamboroughs, their former gay
+companions, were cast off as mean acquaintance, and the whole
+conversation ran upon high life and high-lived company, with
+pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical glasses.</p>
+
+<p>But we could have borne all this, had not a fortune-telling
+gypsy come to raise us into perfect sublimity. The tawny sibyl
+no sooner appeared than my girls came running to me for a
+shilling apiece, to cross her hand with silver. To say the truth,
+I was tired of being always wise, and could not help gratifying
+their request, because I loved to see them happy. I gave each
+of them a shilling, though for the honor of the family it must be
+observed that they never went without money themselves, as my
+wife always generously let them have a guinea each to keep in
+their pockets, but with strict injunctions never to change it.
+After they had been closeted up with the fortune-teller for some
+time, I knew by their looks, upon their returning, that they had
+been promised something great. "Well, my girls, how have you
+sped? Tell me, Livy, has the fortune-teller given thee a penny-worth?"
+"I protest, papa," says the girl, "I believe she deals
+with somebody that is not right, for she positively declared that
+I am to be married to a squire in less than a twelvemonth!"
+"Well now, Sophy, my child," said I, "and what sort of a husband
+are you to have?" "Sir," replied she, "I am to have a
+lord soon after my sister has married the squire." "How," cried
+I, "is that all you are to have for your two shillings? Only
+a lord and a squire for two shillings! You fools, I could have
+promised you a prince and a nabob for half the money!"</p>
+
+<p>This curiosity of theirs, however, was attended with very serious
+effects: we now began to think ourselves designed by the
+stars to something exalted, and already anticipated our future
+grandeur.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it
+once more, that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view
+are more pleasing than those crowned with fruition. In the first
+case we cook the dish to our own appetite; in the latter, nature
+cooks it for us. It is impossible to repeat the train of agreeable
+reveries we called up for our entertainment. We looked upon our
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 6511]</a></span>
+fortunes as once more rising; and as the whole parish asserted
+that the Squire was in love with my daughter, she was actually
+so with him, for they persuaded her into the passion. In this
+agreeable interval my wife had the most lucky dreams in the
+world, which she took care to tell us every morning with great
+solemnity and exactness. It was one night a coffin and cross-bones,
+the sign of an approaching wedding; at another time she
+imagined her daughter's pockets filled with farthings, a certain
+sign of their being shortly stuffed with gold. The girls themselves
+had their omens. They felt strange kisses on their lips;
+they saw rings in the candle; purses bounced from the fire, and
+true-love knots lurked in the bottom of every teacup.</p>
+
+<p>Towards the end of the week we received a card from the
+town ladies, in which, with their compliments, they hoped to
+see all our family at church the Sunday following. All Saturday
+morning I could perceive, in consequence of this, my wife and
+daughters in close conference together, and now and then glancing
+at me with looks that betrayed a latent plot. To be sincere,
+I had strong suspicions that some absurd proposal was preparing
+for appearing with splendor the next day. In the evening they
+began their operations in a very regular manner, and my wife
+undertook to conduct the siege. After tea, when I seemed in
+spirits, she began thus: "I fancy, Charles my dear, we shall
+have a great deal of good company at our church to-morrow."
+"Perhaps we may, my dear," returned I; "though you need be
+under no uneasiness about that; you shall have a sermon whether
+there be or not." "That is what I expect," returned she; "but
+I think, my dear, we ought to appear there as decently as possible,
+for who knows what may happen?" "Your precautions,"
+replied I, "are highly commendable. A decent behavior and
+appearance in church is what charms me. We should be devout
+and humble, cheerful and serene." "Yes," cried she, "I know
+that; but I mean we should go there in as proper a manner as
+possible; not altogether like the scrubs about us." "You are
+quite right, my dear," returned I; "and I was going to make the
+very same proposal. The proper manner of going is to go there
+as early as possible, to have time for meditation before the service
+begins." "Phoo, Charles!" interrupted she; "all that is very
+true, but not what I would be at. I mean we should go there
+genteelly. You know the church is two miles off, and I protest
+I don't like to see my daughters trudging up to their pew all
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 6512]</a></span>
+blowzed and red with walking, and looking for all the world as
+if they had been winners at a smock-race. Now, my dear, my
+proposal is this: there are our two plow-horses, the colt that has
+been in our family these nine years, and his companion Blackberry
+that has scarcely done an earthly thing this month past.
+They are both grown fat and lazy. Why should not they do
+something as well as we? And let me tell you, when Moses has
+trimmed them a little they will cut a very tolerable figure."</p>
+
+<p>To this proposal I objected that walking would be twenty
+times more genteel than such a paltry conveyance, as Blackberry
+was wall-eyed and the colt wanted a tail; that they had never
+been broke to the rein, but had a hundred vicious tricks; and
+that we had but one saddle and pillion in the whole house. All
+these objections however were overruled; so that I was obliged
+to comply. The next morning I perceived them not a little busy
+in collecting such materials as might be necessary for the expedition,
+but as I found it would be a business of time, I walked
+on to the church before, and they promised speedily to follow. I
+waited near an hour in the reading-desk for their arrival, but not
+finding them come as I expected, I was obliged to begin, and
+went through the service, not without some uneasiness at finding
+them absent. This was increased when all was finished, and no
+appearance of the family. I therefore walked back by the horse-way,
+which was five miles round, though the foot-way was but
+two, and when I got about half-way home, perceived the procession
+marching slowly forward towards the church; my son, my
+wife, and the two little ones exalted upon one horse, and my two
+daughters upon the other. I demanded the cause of their delay;
+but I soon found by their looks they had met with a thousand
+misfortunes on the road. The horses had at first refused to move
+from the door, till Mr. Burchell was kind enough to beat them
+forward for about two hundred yards with his cudgel. Next, the
+straps of my wife's pillion broke down, and they were obliged to
+stop to repair them before they could proceed. After that, one
+of the horses took it into his head to stand still, and neither
+blows nor entreaties could prevail with him to proceed. They
+were just recovering from this dismal situation when I found
+them; but perceiving everything safe, I own their present mortification
+did not much displease me, as it would give me many
+opportunities of future triumph, and teach my daughters more
+humility.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 6513]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Michaelmas Eve happening on the next day, we were invited
+to burn nuts and play tricks at neighbor Flamborough's. Our
+late mortifications had humbled us a little, or it is probable we
+might have rejected such an invitation with contempt; however,
+we suffered ourselves to be happy. Our honest neighbor's goose
+and dumplings were fine, and the lamb's wool, even in the opinion
+of my wife, who was a connoisseur, was excellent. It is true
+his manner of telling stories was not quite so well; they were
+very long and very dull, and all about himself, and we had
+laughed at them ten times before; however, we were kind enough
+to laugh at them once more.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burchell, who was of the party, was always fond of seeing
+some innocent amusement going forward, and set the boys and
+girls to blindman's buff. My wife too was persuaded to join in
+the diversion, and it gave me pleasure to think she was not yet
+too old. In the mean time my neighbor and I looked on, laughed
+at every feat, and praised our own dexterity when we were
+young. Hot cockles succeeded next, questions and commands
+followed that, and last of all they sat down to hunt the slipper.
+As every person may not be acquainted with this primeval pastime,
+it may be necessary to observe that the company at this
+play planted themselves in a ring upon the ground, all except
+one, who stands in the middle, whose business it is to catch a
+shoe which the company shove about under their hams from one
+to another, something like a weaver's shuttle. As it is impossible
+in this case for the lady who is up to face all the company
+at once, the great beauty of the play lies in hitting her a thump
+with the heel of the shoe on that side least capable of making a
+defense. It was in this manner that my eldest daughter was
+hemmed in and thumped about, all blowzed in spirits, and bawling
+for fair play with a voice that might deafen a ballad-singer,
+when, confusion on confusion! who should enter the room but
+our two great acquaintances from town, Lady Blarney and Miss
+Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs! Description would but beggar,
+therefore it is unnecessary to describe this new mortification.
+Death! To be seen by ladies of such high breeding in such vulgar
+attitudes! Nothing better could ensue from such a vulgar
+play of Mr. Flamborough's proposing. We seemed stuck to the
+ground for some time, as if actually petrified with amazement.</p>
+
+<p>The two ladies had been at our house to see us, and finding
+us from home, came after us hither, as they were uneasy to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 6514]</a></span>
+know what accident could have kept us from church the day
+before. Olivia undertook to be our prolocutor, and delivered the
+whole in the summary way, only saying, "We were thrown from
+our horses." At which account the ladies were greatly concerned;
+but being told the family received no hurt, they were extremely
+glad; but being informed that we were almost killed by the
+fright, they were vastly sorry; but hearing that we had a very
+good night, they were extremely glad again. Nothing could
+exceed their complaisance to my daughters; their professions the
+last evening were warm, but now they were ardent. They protested
+a desire of having a more lasting acquaintance; Lady
+Blarney was particularly attached to Olivia; Miss Carolina Wilhelmina
+Amelia Skeggs (I love to give the whole name) took a
+greater fancy to her sister. They supported the conversation
+between themselves, while my daughters sat silent, admiring their
+exalted breeding. But as every reader, however beggarly himself,
+is fond of high-lived dialogues, with anecdotes of lords,
+ladies, and Knights of the Garter, I must beg leave to give him
+the concluding part of the present conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"All that I know of the matter," cried Miss Skeggs, "is this:
+that it may be true, or it may not be true; but this I can assure
+your ladyship, that the whole route was in amaze; his lordship
+turned all manner of colors, my lady fell into a swoon, but Sir
+Tomkyn, drawing his sword, swore he was hers to the last drop
+of his blood."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied our peeress, "this I can say: that the duchess
+never told me a syllable of the matter; and I believe her Grace
+would keep nothing a secret from me. This you may depend
+upon as fact: that the next morning my lord duke cried out
+three times to his <i>valet-de-chambre</i>, 'Jernigan, Jernigan, Jernigan,
+bring me my garters!'"</p>
+
+<p>But previously I should have mentioned the very impolite behavior
+of Mr. Burchell, who during this discourse sat with his
+face turned to the fire, and at the conclusion of every sentence
+would cry out "<i>Fudge!</i>"&mdash;an expression which displeased us all,
+and in some measure damped the rising spirit of the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, my dear Skeggs," continued our peeress, "there is
+nothing of this in the copy of verses that Doctor Burdock made
+upon the occasion." <i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>"I am surprised at that," cried Miss Skeggs; "for he seldom
+leaves anything out, as he writes only for his own amusement.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 6515]</a></span>
+But can your Ladyship favor me with a sight of them?"
+<i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>"My dear creature," replied our peeress, "do you think I
+carry such things about me? Though they are very fine, to be
+sure, and I think myself something of a judge; at least I know
+what pleases myself. Indeed, I was ever an admirer of all Doctor
+Burdock's little pieces; for except what he does, and our dear
+countess at Hanover Square, there's nothing comes out but the
+most lowest stuff in nature; not a bit of high life among them."
+<i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>"Your Ladyship should except," says t'other, "your own things
+in the Lady's Magazine. I hope you'll say there's nothing low-lived
+there? But I suppose we are to have no more from that
+quarter?" <i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear," says the lady, "you know my reader and
+companion has left me to be married to Captain Roach, and as
+my poor eyes won't suffer me to write myself, I have been for
+some time looking out for another. A proper person is no easy
+matter to find, and to be sure, thirty pounds a year is a small
+stipend for a well-bred girl of character, that can read, write,
+and behave in company; as for the chits about town, there is no
+bearing them about one." <i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>"That I know," cried Miss Skeggs, "by experience. For
+of the three companions I had this last half-year, one of them
+refused to do plain work an hour in the day, another thought
+twenty-five guineas a year too small a salary, and I was obliged
+to send away the third because I suspected an intrigue with the
+chaplain. Virtue, my dear Lady Blarney, virtue is worth any
+price; but where is that to be found?" <i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>My wife had been for a long time all attention to this discourse,
+but was particularly struck with the latter part of it.
+Thirty pounds and twenty-five guineas a year made fifty-six
+pounds five shillings, English money, all which was in a manner
+going a-begging, and might easily be secured in the family. She
+for a moment studied my looks for approbation; and to own a
+truth, I was of opinion that two such places would fit our two
+daughters exactly. Besides, if the Squire had any real affection
+for my eldest daughter, this would be the way to make her every
+way qualified for her fortune. My wife therefore was resolved
+that we should not be deprived of such advantages for want of
+assurance, and undertook to harangue for the family. "I hope,"
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 6516]</a></span>
+cried she, "your ladyships will pardon my present presumption.
+It is true, we have no right to pretend to such favors; but yet
+it is natural for me to wish putting my children forward in the
+world. And I will be bold to say my two girls have had a
+pretty good education and capacity; at least, the country can't
+show better. They can read, write, and cast accounts; they
+understand their needle, broad-stitch, cross-and-change, and all
+manner of plain work; they can pink, point, and frill, and know
+something of music; they can do up small-clothes, work upon
+catgut; my eldest can cut paper, and my youngest has a very
+pretty manner of telling fortunes upon the cards." <i>Fudge!</i></p>
+
+<p>When she had delivered this pretty piece of eloquence, the
+two ladies looked at each other a few moments in silence, with
+an air of doubt and importance. At last Miss Carolina Wilhelmina
+Amelia Skeggs condescended to observe that the young
+ladies, from the opinion she could form of them from so slight
+an acquaintance, seemed very fit for such employments. "But a
+thing of this kind, madam," cried she, addressing my spouse,
+"requires a thorough examination into characters, and a more
+perfect knowledge of each other. Not, madam," continued she,
+"that I in the least suspect the young ladies' virtue, prudence,
+and discretion; but there is a form in these things, madam, there
+is a form."</p>
+
+<p>My wife approved her suspicions very much, observing that
+she was very apt to be suspicious herself; but referred her to all
+the neighbors for a character; but this our peeress declined as
+unnecessary, alleging that her cousin Thornhill's recommendation
+would be sufficient, and upon this we rested our petition.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>When we returned home, the night was dedicated to schemes
+of future conquest. Deborah exerted much sagacity in conjecturing
+which of the two girls was likely to have the best place, and
+most opportunities of seeing good company. The only obstacle to
+our preferment was in obtaining the Squire's recommendation;
+but he had already shown us too many instances of his friendship
+to doubt of it now. Even in bed my wife kept up the usual
+theme: "Well, faith, my dear Charles, between ourselves, I
+think we have made an excellent day's work of it." "Pretty
+well," cried I, not knowing what to say. "What, only pretty
+well!" returned she; "I think it is very well. Suppose the girls
+should come to make acquaintances of taste in town! This I am
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 6517]</a></span>
+assured of, that London is the only place in the world for all
+manner of husbands. Besides, my dear, stranger things happen
+every day; and as ladies of quality are so taken with my daughters,
+what will not men of quality be! <i>Entre nous</i>, I protest I
+like my Lady Blarney vastly; so very obliging. However, Miss Carolina
+Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs has my warm heart. But
+yet when they came to talk of places in town, you saw at once
+how I nailed them. Tell me, my dear, don't you think I did for
+my children there?" "Ay," returned I, not knowing well what
+to think of the matter; "Heaven grant that they may be both
+the better for it this day three months!" This was one of those
+observations I usually made to impress my wife with an opinion
+of my sagacity; for if the girls succeeded, then it was a pious
+wish fulfilled; but if anything unfortunate ensued, then it might
+be looked upon as a prophecy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="NEW_MISFORTUNES_BUT_OFFENSES_ARE_EASILY_PARDONED" id="NEW_MISFORTUNES_BUT_OFFENSES_ARE_EASILY_PARDONED"></a>NEW MISFORTUNES: BUT OFFENSES ARE EASILY PARDONED WHERE THERE IS LOVE AT BOTTOM</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'</h4>
+
+<p>The next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out
+on my return home. As we traveled along, I strove by
+every persuasion to calm her sorrows and fears, and to
+arm her with resolution to bear the presence of her offended
+mother. I took every opportunity, from the prospect of a fine
+country through which we passed, to observe how much kinder
+Heaven was to us than we were to each other, and that the
+misfortunes of nature's making were very few. I assured her
+that she should never perceive any change in my affections,
+and that during my life, which yet might be long, she might
+depend upon a guardian and an instructor. I armed her against
+the censures of the world; showed her that books were sweet,
+unreproaching companions to the miserable, and that if they
+could not bring us to enjoy life, they would at least teach us to
+endure it.</p>
+
+<p>The hired horse that we rode was to be put up that night at
+an inn by the way, within about five miles from my house; and
+as I was willing to prepare my family for my daughter's reception,
+I determined to leave her that night at the inn, and to
+return for her accompanied by my daughter Sophia, early the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 6518]</a></span>
+next morning. It was night before we reached our appointed
+stage; however, after seeing her provided with a decent apartment,
+and having ordered the hostess to prepare proper refreshments,
+I kissed her, and proceeded towards home. And
+now my heart caught new sensations of pleasure, the nearer I
+approached that peaceful mansion. As a bird that had been
+frighted from its nest, my affections outwent my haste, and
+hovered round my little fireside with all the rapture of expectation.
+I called up the many fond things I had to say, and anticipated
+the welcome I was to receive. I already felt my wife's
+tender embrace, and smiled at the joy of my little ones. As I
+walked but slowly, the night waned apace. The laborers of the
+day were all retired to rest; the lights were out in every cottage;
+no sounds were heard but of the shrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed
+watch-dog at the hollow distance. I approached my
+little abode of pleasure, and before I was within a furlong of the
+place our honest mastiff came running to welcome me.</p>
+
+<p>It was now near midnight that I came to knock at my door;
+all was still and silent; my heart dilated with unutterable happiness;
+when to my amazement I saw the house bursting out in a
+blaze of fire, and every aperture red with conflagration! I gave
+a loud convulsive outcry, and fell upon the pavement insensible.
+This alarmed my son, who had till this been asleep, and he perceiving
+the flames instantly waked my wife and daughter, and all
+running out naked and wild with apprehension, recalled me to
+life with their anguish. But it was only to objects of new terror;
+for the flames had by this time caught the roof of our dwelling,
+part after part continuing to fall in, while the family stood with
+silent agony looking on, as if they enjoyed the blaze. I gazed
+upon them and upon it by turns, and then looked round me for
+my two little ones: but they were not to be seen. Oh misery!
+"Where," cried I, "where are my little ones?" "They are burnt
+to death in the flames," said my wife calmly, "and I will die
+with them." That moment I heard the cry of the babes within,
+who were just awaked by the fire; and nothing could have
+stopped me. "Where, where are my children?" cried I, rushing
+through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber in
+which they were confined; "where are my little ones?" "Here,
+dear papa, here we are," cried they together, while the flames
+were just catching the bed where they lay. I caught them
+both in my arms, and snatched them through the fire as fast as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 6519]</a></span>
+possible, while just as I was got out, the roof sunk in. "Now,"
+cried I, holding up my children, "now let the flames burn on,
+and all my possessions perish. Here they are; I have saved my
+treasure. Here, my dearest, here are our treasures, and we
+shall yet be happy." We kissed our little darlings a thousand
+times, they clasped us round the neck and seemed to share our
+transports, while their mother laughed and wept by turns.</p>
+
+<p>I now stood a calm spectator of the flames, and after some
+time began to perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched
+in a terrible manner. It was therefore out of my power to give
+my son any assistance, either in attempting to save our goods, or
+preventing the flames spreading to our corn. By this time the
+neighbors were alarmed, and came running to our assistance; but
+all they could do was to stand, like us, spectators of the calamity.
+My goods, among which were the notes I had reserved for my
+daughters' fortunes, were entirely consumed, except a box with
+some papers that stood in the kitchen, and two or three things
+more of little consequence which my son brought away in the
+beginning. The neighbors contributed, however, what they could
+to lighten our distress. They brought us clothes, and furnished
+one of our out-houses with kitchen utensils; so that by daylight
+we had another, though a wretched dwelling, to retire to. My
+honest next neighbor and his children were not the least assiduous
+in providing us with everything necessary, and offering
+whatever consolation untutored benevolence could suggest.</p>
+
+<p>When the fears of my family had subsided, curiosity to know
+the cause of my long stay began to take place; having therefore
+informed them of every particular, I proceeded to prepare them
+for the reception of our lost one, and though we had nothing
+but wretchedness now to impart, I was willing to procure her a
+welcome to what we had. This task would have been more difficult
+but for our recent calamity, which had humbled my wife's
+pride and blunted it by more poignant afflictions. Being unable
+to go for my poor child myself, as my arm grew very painful, I
+sent my son and daughter, who soon returned, supporting the
+wretched delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her
+mother, whom no instructions of mine could persuade to a perfect
+reconciliation; for women have a much stronger sense of
+female error than men. "Ah, madam," cried her mother, "this
+is but a poor place you have come to after so much finery.
+My daughter Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 6520]</a></span>
+persons who have kept company only with people of distinction.
+Yes, Miss Livy, your poor father and I have suffered very much
+of late; but I hope Heaven will forgive you." During this
+reception the unhappy victim stood pale and trembling, unable
+to weep or to reply; but I could not continue a silent spectator
+of her distress; wherefore, assuming a degree of severity in my
+voice and manner which was ever followed with instant submission:&mdash;-"I
+entreat, woman, that my words may be now marked
+once for all: I have here brought you back a poor deluded wanderer;
+her return to duty demands the revival of our tenderness.
+The real hardships of life are now coming fast upon us; let us
+not therefore increase them by dissension among each other. If
+we live harmoniously together, we may yet be contented, as there
+are enough of us to shut out the censuring world and keep each
+other in countenance. The kindness of Heaven is promised to
+the penitent, and let ours be directed by the example. Heaven,
+we are assured, is much more pleased to view a repentant sinner
+than ninety-nine persons who have supported a course of undeviating
+rectitude. And this is right; for that single effort by
+which we stop short in the down-hill path to perdition, is itself a
+greater exertion of virtue than a hundred acts of justice."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>Some assiduity was now required to make our present abode
+as convenient as possible, and we were soon again qualified to
+enjoy our former serenity. Being disabled myself from assisting
+my son in our usual occupations, I read to my family from the
+few books that were saved, and particularly from such as by
+amusing the imagination contributed to ease the heart. Our
+good neighbors, too, came every day with the kindest condolence,
+and fixed a time in which they were all to assist at repairing
+my former dwelling. Honest Farmer Williams was not last
+among these visitors, but heartily offered his friendship. He
+would even have renewed his addresses to my daughter; but she
+rejected them in such a manner as totally repressed his future
+solicitations. Her grief seemed formed for continuing, and she
+was the only person of our little society that a week did not
+restore to cheerfulness. She had now lost that unblushing innocence
+which once taught her to respect herself, and to seek pleasure
+by pleasing. Anxiety now had taken strong possession of
+her mind, her beauty began to be impaired with her constitution,
+and neglect still more contributed to diminish it. Every tender
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 6521]</a></span>
+epithet bestowed on her sister brought a pang to her heart and
+a tear to her eye; and as one vice, though cured, ever plants
+others where it has been, so her former guilt, though driven out
+by repentance, left jealousy and envy behind. I strove in a
+thousand ways to lessen her care, and even forgot my own pain
+in a concern for hers, collecting such amusing passages of history
+as a strong memory and some reading could suggest. "Our
+happiness, my dear," I would say, "is in the power of One who
+can bring it about a thousand unforeseen ways that mock our
+foresight."</p>
+
+<p>In this manner I would attempt to amuse my daughter; but
+she listened with divided attention, for her own misfortunes
+engrossed all the pity she once had for those of another, and
+nothing gave her ease. In company she dreaded contempt, and
+in solitude she only found anxiety. Such was the color of her
+wretchedness, when we received certain information that Mr.
+Thornhill was going to be married to Miss Wilmot, for whom I
+always suspected he had a real passion, though he took every
+opportunity before me to express his contempt both of her person
+and fortune. This news only served to increase poor Olivia's
+affliction; such a flagrant breach of fidelity was more than her
+courage could support. I was resolved however to get more
+certain information, and to defeat if possible the completion of
+his designs, by sending my son to old Mr. Wilmot's with instructions
+to know the truth of the report, and to deliver Miss Wilmot
+a letter intimating Mr. Thornhill's conduct in my family.
+My son went in pursuance of my directions, and in three days
+returned, assuring us of the truth of the account; but that he
+had found it impossible to deliver the letter, which he was therefore
+obliged to leave, as Mr. Thornhill and Miss Wilmot were
+visiting round the country. They were to be married, he said,
+in a few days, having appeared together at church the Sunday
+before he was there, in great splendor; the bride attended by
+six young ladies, and he by as many gentlemen. Their approaching
+nuptials filled the whole country with rejoicing, and they
+usually rode out together in the grandest equipage that had been
+seen in the country for years. All the friends of both families,
+he said, were there, particularly the Squire's uncle, Sir William
+Thornhill, who bore so good a character. He added that nothing
+but mirth and feasting were going forward; that all the country
+praised the young bride's beauty and the bridegroom's fine
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 6522]</a></span>
+person, and that they were immensely fond of each other; concluding
+that he could not help thinking Mr. Thornhill one of
+the most happy men in the world.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, let him if he can," returned I; "but my son, observe
+this bed of straw and unsheltering roof, those moldering walls
+and humid floor, my wretched body thus disabled by fire, and
+my children weeping round me for bread. You have come home,
+my child, to all this; yet here, even here, you see a man that
+would not for a thousand worlds exchange situations. O my
+children, if you could but learn to commune with your own
+hearts, and know what noble company you can make them, you
+would little regard the elegance and splendor of the worthless.
+Almost all men have been taught to call life a passage, and
+themselves the travelers. The similitude still may be improved,
+when we observe that the good are joyful and serene, like travelers
+that are going towards home; the wicked but by intervals
+happy, like travelers that are going into exile."</p>
+
+<p>My compassion for my poor daughter, overpowered by this
+new disaster, interrupted what I had further to observe. I bade
+her mother support her, and after a short time she recovered.
+She appeared from that time more calm, and I imagined had
+gained a new degree of resolution; but appearances deceived me,
+for her tranquillity was the languor of overwrought resentment.
+A supply of provisions charitably sent us by my kind parishioners
+seemed to diffuse new cheerfulness among the rest of the
+family; nor was I displeased at seeing them once more sprightly
+and at ease. It would have been unjust to damp their satisfactions
+merely to condole with resolute melancholy, or to burden
+them with a sadness they did not feel. Thus once more the tale
+went round, and the song was demanded, and cheerfulness condescended
+to hover round our little habitation.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for
+the season; so that we agreed to breakfast together on the
+honeysuckle bank; where, while we sat, my youngest daughter,
+at my request, joined her voice to the concert on the trees about
+us. It was in this place my poor Olivia first met her seducer,
+and every object served to recall her sadness. But that melancholy
+which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired by
+sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it.
+Her mother, too, upon this occasion felt a pleasing distress, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 6523]</a></span>
+wept, and loved her daughter as before. "Do, my pretty Olivia,"
+cried she, "let us have that little melancholy air your papa was
+so fond of; your sister Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child;
+it will please your old father." She complied in a manner so
+exquisitely pathetic as moved me:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When lovely woman stoops to folly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And finds too late that men betray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What charm can soothe her melancholy?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What art can wash her guilt away?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The only art her guilt to cover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"To hide her shame from every eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To give repentance to her lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wring his bosom, is&mdash;to die."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>As she was concluding the last stanza, to which an interruption
+in her voice from sorrow gave peculiar softness, the appearance
+of Mr. Thornhill's equipage at a distance alarmed us all, but
+particularly increased the uneasiness of my eldest daughter, who,
+desirous of shunning her betrayer, returned to the house with
+her sister. In a few minutes he was alighted from his chariot,
+and making up to the place where I was still sitting, inquired after
+my health with his usual air of familiarity. "Sir," replied I,
+"your present assurance only serves to aggravate the baseness of
+your character; and there was a time when I would have chastised
+your insolence for presuming thus to appear before me.
+But now you are safe; for age has cooled my passions, and my
+calling restrains me."</p>
+
+<p>"I vow, my dear sir," returned he, "I am amazed at all this,
+nor can I understand what it means. I hope you don't think
+your daughter's late excursion with me had anything criminal
+in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Go," cried I; "thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful wretch, and
+every way a liar; but your meanness secures you from my anger.
+Yet, sir, I am descended from a family that would not have
+borne this! And so, thou vile thing! to gratify a momentary passion,
+thou hast made one poor creature wretched for life, and
+polluted a family that had nothing but honor for their portion."</p>
+
+<p>"If she or you," returned he, "are resolved to be miserable,
+I cannot help it. But you may still be happy; and whatever
+opinion you may have formed of me, you shall ever find me
+ready to contribute to it. We can marry her to another in a short
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 6524]</a></span>
+time, and what is more, she may keep her lover beside; for I
+protest I shall ever continue to have a true regard for her."</p>
+
+<p>I found all my passions alarmed at this new degrading proposal;
+for although the mind may often be calm under great
+injuries, little villainy can at any time get within the soul and
+sting it into rage. "Avoid my sight, thou reptile," cried I, "nor
+continue to insult me with thy presence. Were my brave son at
+home he would not suffer this; but I am old and disabled, and
+every way undone."</p>
+
+<p>"I find," cried he, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in
+a harsher manner than I intended. But as I have shown you
+what may be hoped from my friendship, it may not be improper
+to represent what may be the consequences of my resentment.
+My attorney, to whom your late bond has been transferred,
+threatens hard; nor do I know how to prevent the course of
+justice except by paying the money myself, which, as I have
+been at some expenses lately previous to my intended marriage,
+is not so easy to be done. And then my steward talks of driving
+for the rent: it is certain he knows his duty, for I never
+trouble myself with affairs of that nature. Yet still I could
+wish to serve you, and even to have you and your daughter
+present at my marriage, which is shortly to be solemnized with
+Miss Wilmot; it is even the request of my charming Arabella
+herself, whom I hope you will not refuse."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "hear me once for all: as to your
+marriage with any but my daughter, that I never will consent to;
+and though your friendship could raise me to a throne, or your
+resentment sink me to the grave, yet would I despise both.
+Thou hast once woefully, irreparably deceived me. I reposed my
+heart upon thine honor, and have found its baseness. Never
+more, therefore, expect friendship from me. Go, and possess
+what fortune has given thee&mdash;beauty, riches, health, and pleasure.
+Go and leave me to want, infamy, disease, and sorrow.
+Yet humbled as I am, shall my heart still vindicate its dignity,
+and though thou hast my forgiveness, thou shalt ever have my
+contempt."</p>
+
+<p>"If so," returned he, "depend upon it you shall feel the
+effects of this insolence; and we shall shortly see which is the
+fittest object of scorn, you or me." Upon which he departed
+abruptly.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 6525]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="PICTURES_FROM_THE_DESERTED_VILLAGE" id="PICTURES_FROM_THE_DESERTED_VILLAGE"></a>PICTURES FROM 'THE DESERTED VILLAGE'</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, as I take my solitary rounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, many a year elapsed, return to view<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all my wanderings round this world of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all my griefs,&mdash;and God has given my share,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To husband out life's taper at the close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keep the flame from wasting by repose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I still had hopes&mdash;for pride attends us still&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around my fire an evening group to draw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I still had hopes, my long vexations past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here to return&mdash;and die at home at last.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, blest retirement! friend to life's decline,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retreat from care, that never must be mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How blest is he who crowns in shades like these<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A youth of labor with an age of ease;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who quits a world where strong temptations try,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him no wretches, born to work and weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No surly porter stands in guilty state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To spurn imploring famine from the gate:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But on he moves to meet his latter end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Angels around befriending virtue's friend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bends to the grave with unperceived decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While resignation gently slopes the way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, all his prospects brightening to the last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His heaven commences ere the world be past.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 6526]</a></span><span class="i0">There, as I passed with careless steps and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mingling notes came softened from below:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The playful children just let loose from school;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And filled each pause the nightingale had made.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now the sounds of population fail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all the bloomy flush of life is fled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All but yon widowed, solitary thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, wretched matron,&mdash;forced in age, for bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She only left of all the harmless train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sad historian of the pensive plain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still where many a garden flower grows wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village preacher's modest mansion rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man he was to all the country dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And passing rich with forty pounds a year.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remote from towns he ran his godly race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unpracticed he to fawn, or seek for power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His house was known to all the vagrant train,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The long-remembered beggar was his guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sate by his fire, and talked the night away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 6527]</a></span><span class="i0">Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quite forgot their vices in their woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless their merits or their faults to scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His pity gave ere charity began.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in his duty prompt at every call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as a bird each fond endearment tries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beside the bed where parting life was laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reverend champion stood. At his control,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his last faltering accents whispered praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At church, with meek and unaffected grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His looks adorned the venerable place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The service past, around the pious man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even children followed, with endearing wile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eternal sunshine settles on its head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village master taught his little school.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man severe he was, and stern to view;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew him well, and every truant knew:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 6528]</a></span><span class="i0">Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day's disasters in his morning face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At all his jokes,&mdash;for many a joke had he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full well, the busy whisper, circling round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet he was kind; or if severe in aught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The love he bore to learning was in fault.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village all declared how much he knew:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even the story ran that he could <i>gauge</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For even though vanquished he could argue still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While words of learn&egrave;d length and thundering sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That one small head could carry all he knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But past is all his fame. The very spot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And news much older than their ale went round.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imagination fondly stoops to trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parlor splendors of that festive place:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chest contrived a double debt to pay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pictures placed for ornament and use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With aspen boughs and flowers and fennel gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Vain, transitory splendors! could not all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An hour's importance to the poor man's heart.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 6529]</a></span><span class="i0">Thither no more the peasant shall repair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sweet oblivion of his daily care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The host himself no longer shall be found<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These simple blessings of the lowly train;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me more dear, congenial to my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One native charm, than all the gloss of art.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spontaneous joys where nature has its play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even while fashion's brightest arts decoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="CONTRASTED_NATIONAL_TYPES" id="CONTRASTED_NATIONAL_TYPES"></a>CONTRASTED NATIONAL TYPES</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'The Traveller'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My soul, turn from them; turn we to survey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where rougher climes a nobler race display;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No product here the barren hills afford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But man and steel, the soldier and his sword;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But winter lingering chills the lap of May;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sees his little lot the lot of all;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 6530]</a></span><span class="i0">Sees no contiguous palace rear its head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shame the meanness of his humble shed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make him loathe his vegetable meal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each wish contracting fits him to the soil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With patient angle trolls the finny deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or drives his venturous plowshare to the steep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drags the struggling savage into day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At night returning, every labor sped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Displays her cleanly platter on the board;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With many a tale repays the nightly bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus every good his native wilds impart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even those ills that round his mansion rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But bind him to his native mountains more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such are the charms to barren states assigned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their wants but few, their wishes all confined.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet let them only share the praises due,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For every want that stimulates the breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That first excites desire, and then supplies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fill the languid pause with finer joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 6531]</a></span><span class="i0">Their level life is but a smoldering fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unquenched by want, unfanned by strong desire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unfit for raptures, or if raptures cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On some high festival of once a year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For as refinement stops, from sire to son<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unaltered, unimproved, the manners run;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falls blunted from each indurated heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all the gentler morals, such as play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I turn; and France displays her bright domain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How often have I led thy sportive choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where shading elms along the margin grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mocked all tune, and marred the dancer's skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet would the village praise my wondrous power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alike all ages: dames of ancient days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have led their children through the mirthful maze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has frisked beneath the burthen of threescore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So blest a life these thoughtless realms display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus idly busy rolls their world away:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For honor forms the social temper here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honor, that praise which real merit gains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or even imaginary worth obtains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It shifts in splendid traffic round the land;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 6532]</a></span><span class="i0">From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all are taught an avarice of praise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They please, are pleased, they give to get esteem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But while this softer art their bliss supplies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It gives their follies also room to rise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enfeebles all internal strength of thought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the weak soul, within itself unblest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To boast one splendid banquet once a year:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 6533]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF" id="IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF"></a>IV&Aacute;N ALEKSANDROVITCH GONCHAR&Oacute;F</h2>
+
+<h4>(1812-)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capa.png" width="90" height="90" alt="A" title="A" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">mong the Russian novelists of the first rank stands Iv&aacute;n the
+son of Alexander Gonchar&oacute;f. His life has been almost synchronous
+with the century. He was born in 1812 in the
+city of Simbirsk, on the Volga below Nizhni N&oacute;vgorod. His father,
+a wealthy merchant of that flourishing town, died when the boy was
+only three years old, leaving him in the care of his mother, a conscientious
+and lovely woman, who, without a remarkable education,
+nevertheless determined that her son should have the best that could
+be provided. In this she was cordially assisted
+by Iv&agrave;n's godfather, a retired naval
+officer who lived in one of her houses and
+was a cultivated, lively, and lovable man,
+the centre of the best society of the provincial
+city. His tales of travel and adventure
+early implanted in the boy a great
+passion for reading and study about foreign
+lands, and the desire to see the world.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/goncharof.png" width="170" height="211" alt="I.V. Goncharof" title="I.V. Goncharof" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">I.V. Gonchar&oacute;f</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He was at first taught at home; then
+he was sent to a private school which had
+been established by a local priest for the
+benefit of neighboring land-owners and
+gentry. This priest had been educated at
+the Theological School at Kaz&aacute;n, and was
+distinguished for his courtly manners and general cultivation. His
+wife&mdash;for it must be remembered that the Russian priesthood is not
+celibate&mdash;was a fascinating French woman, and she taught her native
+tongue in her husband's school. This remarkable little institution
+had a small but select library, and here young Gonchar&oacute;f indulged
+his taste in reading by devouring the Voyages of Captain Cook, Mungo
+Park, and others, the histories of Karamzin and Rollin, the poetical
+works of Tasso and Fenelon, as well as the romantic fiction of that
+day; he was especially fascinated by 'The Heir of Redclyffe.' His
+reading, however, was ill regulated and not well adapted for his mental
+discipline. At twelve he was taken by his mother to Moscow,
+where he had the opportunity to study English and German as well
+as to continue his reading in French, in which he had already been
+well grounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 6534]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In 1831 he entered Moscow University, electing the Philological
+Faculty. There were at that time in the University a coterie of young
+men who afterwards became famous as writers, and the lectures
+delivered by a number of enthusiastic young professors were admirably
+calculated to develop the best in those who heard them. He
+finished the complete course, and after a brief visit at his native place
+went to St. Petersburg, where he entered the Ministry of Finance.
+Gogol, and Gonchar&oacute;f himself, have painted the depressing influence
+of the officialdom then existing. The <i>chin&oacute;vnik</i> as painted by those
+early realists was a distinct type. But on the other hand, there was
+a delightful society at St. Petersburg, and the literary impulses of talented
+young men were fostered by its leaders. Some of these men
+founded a new journal of which Salonitsuin was the leading spirit,
+and in this appeared Gonchar&oacute;f's first articles. They were of a
+humoristic tendency. His first serious work was entitled 'Obuiknav&eacute;nnaya
+Ist&oacute;riya' (An Ordinary Story),&mdash;a rather melancholy tale,
+showing how youthful enthusiasm and the dreams of progress and perfection
+can be killed by formalism: Aleksandr Ad&uacute;yef the romantic
+dreamer is contrasted with his practical uncle Peter Iv&aacute;novitch. The
+second part was not completed when the first part was placed in the
+hands of the critic Byelinsky, the sovereign arbiter on things literary.
+Byelinsky gave it his "imprimatur," and it was published in the Sovrem&eacute;nnik
+(Contemporary) in 1847. The conception of his second and
+by all odds his best romance, 'Obl&oacute;mof,' was already in his mind;
+and the first draft was published in the Illustrated Album, under
+the title 'Son Obl&oacute;mova' (Obl&oacute;mof's Dream), the following year.</p>
+
+<p>In 1852 Gonchar&oacute;f received from the Marine Ministry a proposition
+to sail around the world as private secretary to Admiral Puty&aacute;tin.
+On his return he contributed to various magazines sketches of his
+experiences, and finally published a handsome volume of his travels
+entitled 'Phregat P&aacute;llada' (The Frigate Pallas). In 1857 he went to
+Carlsbad and completed 'Obl&oacute;mof' on which he had been working
+so many years. It appeared in Otetchestvenniya Zap&iacute;ski (Annals of
+the Fatherland) in 1858 and 1859, and made a profound sensation.
+The hero was recognized as a perfectly elaborated portrait of a not
+uncommon type of Russian character: a good-natured, warm-hearted,
+healthy young man, so enervated by the atmosphere of indolence into
+which he has allowed himself to sink, that nothing serves to rouse
+him. Love is the only impulse which could galvanize him into life.
+Across his path comes the beautiful Olga, whom the Russians claim
+as a poetic and at the same time a genuine representative of the
+best Russian womanhood. Vigorous, alert, with mind and heart
+equally well developed, she stirs the latent manhood of Obl&oacute;mof; but
+when he comes to face the responsibilities, the cares, and the duties
+of matrimony, he has not the courage to enter upon them. Olga
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 6535]</a></span>
+marries Obl&oacute;mof's friend Stoltz, whom Gonchar&oacute;f intended to be a no
+less typical specimen of Russian manhood, and whom most critics
+consider overdrawn and not true to life. The novel is a series of
+wonderful <i>genre</i> pictures: his portraits are marvels of finish and delicacy;
+and there are a number of dramatic scenes, although the story
+as a whole lacks movement. The first chapter, which is here reproduced,
+is chosen not as perhaps the finest in the book, but as thoroughly
+characteristic. It is also a fine specimen of Russian humor.</p>
+
+<p>Gonchar&oacute;f finished in 1868 his third novel, entitled 'Abru&iacute;f' (The
+Precipice). It was published first in the Vi&eacute;stnik Yevr&oacute;pui (European
+Messenger), and in book form in 1870. In this he tries to portray the
+type of the Russian Nihilist; but Volokh&oacute;f is regarded rather as a
+caricature than as a faithful portrait. In contrast with him stands
+the beautiful Viera; but just as Volokh&oacute;f falls below Obl&oacute;mof, so
+Viera yields to Olga in perfect realism. One of the best characters
+in the story is the dilettante Ra&iacute;sky, the type of the man who has an
+artistic nature but no energy. One of the most important characters
+of the book is Viera's grandmother: the German translation of 'The
+Precipice' is entitled 'The Grandmother's Fault.'</p>
+
+<p>Gonchar&oacute;f has written a few literary essays, and during the past
+few years has contributed to one of the Russian reviews a series of
+literary recollections. But his fame with posterity will depend principally
+on his 'Obl&oacute;mof,' the name of which has given to the language
+a new word,&mdash;<i>obl&oacute;movshchina</i><a name="FNanchor_A_6" id="FNanchor_A_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> Obl&oacute;movism,&mdash;the typically Russian
+indolence which was induced by the peculiar social conditions existing
+in Russia before the emancipation of the serfs in 1861: indifference
+to all social questions; the expectation that others will do your
+work; or as expressed in the Russian proverb, "the trusting in others
+as in God, but in yourself as in the Devil."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 323px;">
+<img src="images/sign309.png" width="323" height="143" alt="Nathan Haskell Dole" title="Nathan Haskell Dole" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 6536]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="OBLOMOF" id="OBLOMOF"></a>OBL&Oacute;MOF</h3>
+
+<p>In Gar&oacute;khavaya Street, in one of those immense houses the
+population of which would suffice for a whole provincial city,
+there lay one morning in bed in his apartment &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch
+Obl&oacute;mof. He was a pleasant-appearing man of two or three and
+twenty, of medium stature, with dark gray eyes; but his face
+lacked any fixed idea or concentration of purpose. A thought
+would wander like a free bird over his features, flutter in his
+eyes, light on his parted lips, hide itself in the wrinkles of his
+brow, then entirely vanish away; and over his whole countenance
+would spread the shadeless light of unconcern.</p>
+
+<p>From his face this indifference extended to the attitudes of
+his whole body, even to the folds of his dressing-gown. Occasionally
+his eyes were darkened by an expression of weariness or
+disgust, but neither weariness nor disgust could for an instant
+dispel from his face the indolence which was the dominant and
+habitual expression not only of his body, but also of his very
+soul. And his soul was frankly and clearly betrayed in his
+eyes, in his smile, in every movement of his head, of his hands.</p>
+
+<p>A cool superficial observer, glancing at Obl&oacute;mof as he passed
+him by, would have said, "He must be a good-natured, simple-hearted
+fellow." Any one looking deeper, more sympathetically,
+would after a few moments' scrutiny turn away with a smile, with
+a feeling of agreeable uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>Obl&oacute;mof's complexion was not florid, not tawny, and not positively
+pallid, but was indeterminate,&mdash;or seemed to be so, perhaps
+because it was flabby; not by reason of age, but by lack of
+exercise or of fresh air or of both. His body, to judge by the
+dull, transparent color of his neck, by his little plump hands,
+his drooping shoulders, seemed too effeminate for a man. His
+movements, even if by chance he were aroused, were kept under
+restraint likewise by a languor and by a laziness that was not
+devoid of its own peculiar grace.</p>
+
+<p>If a shadow of an anxious thought arose from his spirit and
+passed across his face, his eyes would grow troubled, the wrinkles
+in his brow would deepen, a struggle of doubt or pain would
+seem to begin: but rarely indeed would this troubled thought
+crystallize into the form of a definite idea; still more rarely
+would it be transformed into a project.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 6537]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All anxiety would be dissipated in a sigh and settle down into
+apathy or languid dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>How admirably Obl&oacute;mof's house costume suited his unruffled
+features and his effeminate body! He wore a dressing-gown of
+Persian material&mdash;a regular Oriental <i>khal&aacute;t</i>, without the slightest
+suggestion of anything European about it, having no tassels, no
+velvet, no special shape. It was ample in size, so that he might
+have wrapped it twice around him. The sleeves, in the invariable
+Asiatic style, grew wider and wider from the wrist to the shoulder.
+Although this garment had lost its first freshness, and in
+places had exchanged its former natural gloss for another that
+was acquired, it still preserved the brilliancy of its Oriental coloring
+and its firmness of texture.</p>
+
+<p>The khal&aacute;t had in Obl&oacute;mof's eyes a multitude of precious
+properties: it was soft and supple; the body was not sensible of
+its weight; like an obedient slave, it accommodated itself to every
+slightest motion.</p>
+
+<p>Obl&oacute;mof while at home always went without cravat and
+without waistcoat, for the simple reason that he liked simplicity
+and comfort. The slippers which he wore were long, soft, and
+wide; when without looking he put down one foot from the bed
+to the floor it naturally fell into one of them.</p>
+
+<p>Obl&oacute;mof's remaining in bed was not obligatory upon him, as
+in the case of a sick man or of one who was anxious to sleep;
+nor was it accidental, as in the case of one who was weary; nor
+was it for mere pleasure, as a sluggard would have chosen: it
+was the normal condition of things with him. When he was at
+home&mdash;and he was almost always at home&mdash;he invariably lay
+in bed and invariably in the room where we have just found
+him: a room which served him for sleeping-room, library, and
+parlor. He had three other rooms, but he rarely glanced into
+them; in the morning, perhaps, but even then not every day,
+but only when his man came to sweep the rooms&mdash;and this,
+you may be sure, was not done every day. In these rooms the
+furniture was protected with covers; the curtains were always
+drawn.</p>
+
+<p>The room in which Obl&oacute;mof was lying appeared at first
+glance to be handsomely furnished, There were a mahogany
+bureau, two sofas upholstered in silk, handsome screens embroidered
+with birds and fruits belonging to an imaginary nature.
+There were damask curtains, rugs, a number of paintings, bronzes,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 6538]</a></span>
+porcelains, and a quantity of beautiful bric-a-brac. But the experienced
+eye of a man of pure taste would have discovered at a
+single hasty glance that everything there betrayed merely the
+desire to keep up appearances in unimportant details, while
+really avoiding the burden. That had indeed been Obl&oacute;mof's
+object when he furnished his room. Refined taste would not
+have been satisfied with those heavy ungraceful mahogany chairs,
+with those conventional &eacute;tag&egrave;res. The back of one sofa was dislocated;
+the veneering was broken off in places. The same characteristics
+were discoverable in the pictures and the vases, and
+all the ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>The proprietor himself, however, looked with such coolness
+and indifference on the decoration of his apartment that one
+might think he asked with his eyes, "Who brought you here and
+set you up?" As the result of such an indifferent manner of
+regarding his possessions, and perhaps of the still more indifferent
+attitude of Obl&oacute;mof's servant Zakh&aacute;r, the appearance of the
+room, if it were examined rather more critically, was amazing
+because of the neglect and carelessness which held sway there.
+On the walls, around the pictures, spiders' webs, loaded with
+dust, hung like festoons; the mirrors, instead of reflecting objects,
+would have served better as tablets for scribbling memoranda in
+the dust that covered them. The rugs were rags. On the sofa
+lay a forgotten towel; on the table you would generally find in the
+morning a plate or two with the remains of the evening meal,
+the salt-cellar, gnawed bones, and crusts of bread. Were it not
+for these plates, and the pipe half smoked out and flung down
+on the bed, or even the master himself stretched out on it, it
+might easily have been supposed that the room was uninhabited,
+it was so dusty, so lacking in all traces of human care. On the
+&eacute;tag&egrave;res, to be sure, lay two or three opened books or a crumpled
+newspaper; on the bureau stood an inkstand with pens; but
+the pages where the books were open were covered thick with
+dust and had turned yellow, evidently long ago thrown aside; the
+date of the newspaper was long past; and if any one had dipped
+a pen into the inkstand it would have started forth only a frightened,
+buzzing fly!</p>
+
+<p>&Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch was awake, contrary to his ordinary custom, very
+early,&mdash;at eight o'clock. Some anxiety was preying on his mind.
+Over his face passed alternately now apprehension, now annoyance,
+now vexation. It was evident that an internal conflict had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 6539]</a></span>
+him in its throes, and his intellect had not as yet come to his
+aid.</p>
+
+<p>The fact was that the evening before, Obl&oacute;mof had received
+from the st&aacute;rosta (steward) of his estate a letter filled with disagreeable
+tidings. It is not hard to guess what unpleasant details
+one's steward may write about: bad harvests, large arrearages,
+diminution in receipts, and the like. But although his st&aacute;rosta
+had written his master almost precisely the same kind of letter
+the preceding year and the year before that, nevertheless this
+latest letter came upon him exactly the same, as a disagreeable
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Was it not hard?&mdash;he was facing the necessity of considering
+the means of taking some measures!</p>
+
+<p>However, it is proper to show how far &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch was justified
+in feeling anxiety about his affairs.</p>
+
+<p>When he received the first letter of disagreeable tenor from
+his st&aacute;rosta some years before, he was already contemplating a
+plan for a number of changes and improvements in the management
+of his property. This plan presupposed the introduction of
+various new economical and protectional measures; but the details
+of the scheme were still in embryo, and the st&aacute;rosta's disagreeable
+letters were annually forthcoming, urging him to activity and
+really disturbing his peace of mind. Obl&oacute;mof recognized the
+necessity of coming to some decision if he were to carry out his
+plan.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he woke he decided to get up, bathe, and after
+drinking his tea, to think the matter over carefully, then to write
+his letters; and in short, to act in this matter as was fitting. But
+for half an hour he had been still in bed tormenting himself with
+this proposition; but finally he came to the conclusion that he
+would still have time to do it after tea, and that he might drink
+his tea as usual in bed with all the more reason, because one can
+think even if one is lying down!</p>
+
+<p>And so he did. After his tea he half sat up in bed, but did
+not entirely rise; glancing down at his slippers, he started to put
+his foot into one of them, but immediately drew it back into bed
+again.</p>
+
+<p>As the clock struck half-past nine, &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch started up.</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of a man am I?" he said aloud in a tone of vexation.
+"Conscience only knows. It is time to do something:
+where there's a will&mdash;Zakh&aacute;r!" he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 6540]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In a room which was separated merely by a narrow corridor
+from &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch's library, nothing was heard at first except the
+growling of the watch-dog; then the thump of feet springing
+down from somewhere. It was Zakh&aacute;r leaping down from his
+couch on the stove, where he generally spent his time immersed
+in drowsiness.</p>
+
+<p>An elderly man appeared in the room: he was dressed in a
+gray coat, through a hole under the armpit of which emerged a
+part of his shirt; he also wore a gray waistcoat with brass buttons.
+His head was as bald as his knee, and he had enormous
+reddish side-whiskers already turning gray&mdash;so thick and bushy
+that they would have sufficed for three ordinary individuals.</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r would never have taken pains to change in any respect
+either the form which God had bestowed on him, or the
+costume which he wore in the country. His raiment was made
+for him in the style which he had brought with him from his
+village. His gray coat and waistcoat pleased him, for the very
+reason that in his semi-fashionable attire he perceived a feeble
+approach to the livery which he had worn in former times when
+waiting on his former masters (now at rest), either to church or
+to parties; but liveries in his recollections were merely representative
+of the dignity of the Obl&oacute;mof family. There was nothing
+else to recall to the old man the comfortable and liberal style of
+life on the estate in the depths of the country. The older generation
+of masters had died, the family portraits were at home, and
+in all probability were going to rack and ruin in the garret; the
+traditions of the former life and importance of the house of
+Obl&oacute;mof were all extinct, or lived only in the memories of a few
+old people still lingering in the country.</p>
+
+<p>Consequently, precious in the eyes of Zakh&aacute;r was the gray
+coat: in this he saw a faint emblem of vanished greatness, and
+he found similar indications in some of the characteristics of his
+master's features and notions, reminding of his parentage, and in
+his caprices, which although he grumbled at them under his
+breath and aloud, yet he prized secretly as manifestations of the
+truly imperious will and autocratic spirit of a born noble. Had
+it not been for these whims, he would not have felt that his
+master was in any sense above him; had it not been for them,
+there would have been nothing to bring back to his mind his
+younger days, the village which they had abandoned so long ago,
+and the traditions about that ancient home,&mdash;the sole chronicles
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 6541]</a></span>
+preserved by aged servants, nurses, and nursemaids, and handed
+down from mouth to mouth.</p>
+
+<p>The house of the Obl&oacute;mofs was rich in those days, and had
+great influence in that region; but afterwards somehow or other
+everything had gone to destruction, and at last by degrees had
+sunk out of sight, overshadowed by parvenus of aristocratic
+pretensions. Only the few gray-haired retainers of the house
+preserved and interchanged their reminiscences of the past, treasuring
+them like holy relics.</p>
+
+<p>This was the reason why Zakh&aacute;r so loved his gray coat. Possibly
+he valued his side-whiskers because of the fact that he saw
+in his childhood many of the older servants with this ancient and
+aristocratic adornment.</p>
+
+<p>&Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch, immersed in contemplation, took no notice of
+Zakh&aacute;r, though the servant had been silently waiting for some
+time. At last he coughed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it you want?" asked &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch.</p>
+
+<p>"You called me, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Called you? I don't remember what I called you for," he
+replied, stretching and yawning. "Go back to your room; I
+will try to think what I wanted."</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r went out, and &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch lay down on the bed again
+and began to cogitate upon that cursed letter.</p>
+
+<p>A quarter of an hour elapsed.</p>
+
+<p>"There now," he exclaimed, "I have dallied long enough; I
+must get up. However, I must read the st&aacute;rosta's letter over
+again more attentively, and then I will get up&mdash;Zakh&aacute;r!" The
+same noise of leaping down from the stove, and the same growling
+of the dog, only more emphatic.</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r made his appearance, but again Obl&oacute;mof was sunk
+deep in contemplation. Zakh&aacute;r stood a few moments, looking
+sulkily and askance at his master, and finally he turned to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" suddenly demanded Obl&oacute;mof.</p>
+
+<p>"You have nothing to say to me, and why should I waste
+my time standing here?" explained Zakh&aacute;r, in a hoarse gasp
+which served him in lieu of a voice, he having lost his voice,
+according to his own account, while out hunting with the dogs
+when he had to accompany his former master, and when a
+powerful wind seemed to blow in his throat. He half turned
+round, and stood in the middle of the room and glared at his
+master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 6542]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Have your legs quite given out, that you can't stand a minute?
+Don't you see I am worried? Now, please wait a moment!
+wasn't it lying there just now? Get me that letter which I
+received last evening from the st&aacute;rosta. What did you do with
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What letter? I haven't seen any letter," replied Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you yourself took it from the postman, you scoundrel!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is where you put it; how should I know anything about
+it?" said Zakh&aacute;r, beginning to rummage about among the papers
+and various things that littered the table.</p>
+
+<p>"You never know anything at all. There, look on the basket.
+No, see if it hasn't been thrown on the sofa.&mdash;There, the
+back of that sofa hasn't been mended yet. Why have you not
+got the carpenter to mend it? 'Twas you who broke it. You
+never think of anything!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't break it," retorted Zakh&aacute;r; "it broke itself; it was
+not meant to last forever; it had to break some time."</p>
+
+<p>&Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch did not consider it necessary to refute this argument.
+He contented himself with asking:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Have you found it yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here are some letters."</p>
+
+<p>"But they are not the right ones."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's nothing else," said Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, be gone," said &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch impatiently. "I am
+going to get up. I will find it."</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r went to his room, but he had hardly laid his hand on
+his couch to climb up to it before the imperative cry was heard
+again:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Zakh&aacute;r! Zakh&aacute;r!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, good Lord!" grumbled he, as he started to go for the
+third time to Obl&oacute;mof's library. "What a torment all this is!
+Oh that death would come and take me from it!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" he asked, as he stood with one hand
+on the door, and glaring at Obl&oacute;mof as a sign of his surliness,
+at such an angle that he had to look at his master out of the
+corner of his eyes; while his master could see only one of his
+enormous side-whiskers, so bushy that you might have expected
+to have two or three birds come flying out from them.</p>
+
+<p>"My handkerchief, quick! You might have known what I
+wanted. Don't you see?" remarked &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch sternly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 6543]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r displayed no special dissatisfaction or surprise at such
+an order or such a reproach on his master's part, regarding both,
+so far as he was concerned, as perfectly natural.</p>
+
+<p>"But who knows where your handkerchief is?" he grumbled,
+circling about the room and making a careful examination of
+every chair, although it could be plainly seen that there was
+nothing whatever on them.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a perfect waste of time," he remarked, opening the door
+into the drawing-room in order to see if there was any sign of it
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going? Look for it here; I have not been
+in that room since day before yesterday. And make haste,"
+urged &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the handkerchief? There isn't any handkerchief,"
+exclaimed Zakh&aacute;r rummaging and searching in every corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there it is," he suddenly cried angrily, "under you.
+There is the end of it sticking out. You were lying on it, and
+yet you ask me to find your handkerchief for you!"</p>
+
+<p>And Zakh&aacute;r, without awaiting any reply, turned and started
+to go out. Obl&oacute;mof was somewhat ashamed of his own blunder.
+But he quickly discovered another pretext for putting Zakh&aacute;r in
+the wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of neatness do you call this everywhere here!
+Look at the dust and dirt! Good heavens! look here, look here!
+See these corners! You don't do anything at all."</p>
+
+<p>"And so I don't do anything," repeated Zakh&aacute;r in a tone
+betokening deep resentment. "I am growing old, I shan't live
+much longer! But God knows I use the duster for the dust, and
+I sweep almost every day."</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to the middle of the floor, and at the table where
+Obl&oacute;mof had dined. "Here, look here," he went on: "it has all
+been swept and all put in order, fit for a wedding. What more
+is needed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, what is this?" cried &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch, interrupting
+him and calling his attention to the walls and the ceiling. "And
+that? and that?"</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to a yesterday's napkin which had been flung
+down, and to a plate which had been left lying on the table
+with a dry crust of bread on it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, as for that," said Zakh&aacute;r as he picked up the plate,
+"I will take care of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 6544]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You will take care of it, will you? But how about the dust
+and the cobwebs on the walls?" said Obl&oacute;mof, making ocular
+demonstration.</p>
+
+<p>"I put that off till Holy Week; then I clean the sacred
+images and sweep down the cobwebs."</p>
+
+<p>"But how about dusting the books and pictures?"</p>
+
+<p>"The books and pictures? Before Christmas; then An&iacute;siya
+and I look over all the closets. But now when should we be
+able to do it? You are always at home."</p>
+
+<p>"I sometimes go to the theatre or go out to dine: you
+might&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do house-cleaning at night?"</p>
+
+<p>Obl&oacute;mof looked at him reproachfully, shook his head, and
+uttered a sigh; but Zakh&aacute;r gazed indifferently out of the window
+and also sighed deeply. The master seemed to be thinking,
+"Well, brother, you are even more of an Obl&oacute;mof than I am
+myself;" while Zakh&aacute;r probably said to himself, "Rubbish! You
+as my master talk strange and melancholy words, but how do
+dust and cobwebs concern you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know that moths breed in dust?" asked &Iacute;lya
+&Iacute;lyitch. "I have even seen bugs on the wall!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I have fleas on me sometimes," replied Zakh&aacute;r in a
+tone of indifference.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, is that anything to boast about? That is shameful,"
+exclaimed Obl&oacute;mof.</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r's face was distorted by a smirking smile, which
+seemed to embrace even his eyebrows and his side-whiskers,
+which for this reason spread apart; and over his whole face up
+to his very forehead extended a ruddy spot.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, am I to blame that there are bugs on the wall?" he
+asked in innocent surprise: "was it I who invented them?"</p>
+
+<p>"They come from lack of cleanliness," insisted Obl&oacute;mof.
+"What are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not the cause of the uncleanliness."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have mice in your room there running about at
+night&mdash;I hear them."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not invent the mice.  There are all kinds of living
+creatures&mdash;mice and cats and fleas&mdash;lots of them everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"How is it that other people don't have moths and bugs?"</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r's face expressed incredulity, or rather a calm conviction
+that this was not so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 6545]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have plenty of them," he said without hesitation. "One
+can't look after every bug and crawl into the cracks after
+them."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to be his thought, "What kind of a sleeping-room
+would that be that had no bugs in it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now do you see to it that you sweep and brush them out
+of the corners; don't let there be one left," admonished Obl&oacute;mof.</p>
+
+<p>"If you get it all cleaned up it will be just as bad again to-morrow,"
+remonstrated Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"It ought not to be as bad," interrupted the master.</p>
+
+<p>"But it is," insisted the servant; "I know all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, if the dust collects again, brush it out again."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that you say? Brush out all the corners every
+day?" exclaimed Zakh&aacute;r. "What a life that would be! Better
+were it that God should take my soul!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why are other people's houses clean?" urged Obl&oacute;mof.
+"Just look at the piano-tuner's rooms: see how neat they look,
+and only one maid&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, these Germans!" exclaimed Zakh&aacute;r suddenly interrupting.
+"Where do they make any litter? Look at the way they
+live! Every family gnaws a whole week on a single bone. The
+coat goes from the father's back to the son's, and back from the
+son's to the father's. The wives and daughters wear little short
+skirts, and when they walk they all lift up their legs like ducks&mdash;where
+do they get any dirt? They don't do as we do&mdash;leave
+a whole heap of soiled clothes in the closet for a year at a time,
+or fill up the corners with bread crusts for the winter. Their
+crusts are never flung down at random: they make zweiback out
+of them, and eat them when they drink their beer!"</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r expressed his disgust at such a penurious way of living
+by spitting through his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Say nothing more," expostulated &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch. "Do better
+work with your house-cleaning."</p>
+
+<p>"One time I would have cleaned up, but you yourself would
+not allow it," said Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all done with! Don't you see I have entirely
+changed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you have; but still you stay at home all the time:
+how can one begin to clean up when you are right here? If you
+will stay out of the house for a whole day, then I will have a
+general clearing-up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 6546]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What an idea! Get out of here. You had better go to your
+own room."</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" persisted Zakh&aacute;r; "but I tell you, the moment
+you go out, An&iacute;siya and I will clear the whole place up. And
+we two would finish with it in short metre; then you will want
+some women to wash everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what schemes you invent! Women! away with you!"
+cried &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch.</p>
+
+<p>He was by this time disgusted with himself for having led
+Zakh&aacute;r into this conversation. He had quite forgotten that the
+attainment of this delicate object was at the expense of considerable
+confusion. Obl&oacute;mof would have liked a state of perfect
+cleanliness, but he would require that it should be brought about
+in some imperceptible manner, as it were of itself; but Zakh&aacute;r
+always induced a discussion as soon as he was asked to have any
+sweeping done, or the floors washed, and the like. In such a
+contingency he was sure to point out the necessity of a terrible
+disturbance in the house, knowing very well that the mere suggestion
+of such a thing would fill his master with horror.</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r went away, and Obl&oacute;mof relapsed into cogitation.
+After some minutes the half-hour struck again.</p>
+
+<p>"What time is it?" exclaimed &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch with a dull sense
+of alarm. "Almost eleven o'clock! Can it be that I am not up
+yet nor had my bath? Zakh&aacute;r! Zakh&aacute;r!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, good God! what is it now?" was heard from the ante-room,
+and then the well-known thump of feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Is my bath ready?" asked Obl&oacute;mof.</p>
+
+<p>"Ready? yes, long ago," replied Zakh&aacute;r. "Why did you not
+get up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you tell me it was ready? I should have got up
+long ago if you had. Go on; I will follow you immediately. I
+have some business to do; I want to write."</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r went out, but in the course of a few minutes he
+returned with a greasy copy-book all scribbled over, and some
+scraps of paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, if you want to write&mdash;and by the way, be kind enough
+to verify these accounts: we need the money to pay them."</p>
+
+<p>"What accounts? what money?" demanded &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch with
+a show of temper.</p>
+
+<p>"From the butcher, from the grocer, from the laundress, from
+the baker; they all are clamoring for money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 6547]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nothing but bother about money," growled &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch.
+"But why didn't you give them to me one at a time instead of
+all at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see you always kept putting me off: 'To-morrow,'
+always 'To-morrow.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why shouldn't we put them off till to-morrow now?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! they are dunning you; they won't give any longer
+credit. To-morrow's the first of the month."</p>
+
+<p>"Akh!" cried Obl&oacute;mof in vexation, "new bother! Well, why
+are you standing there? Put them on the table. I will get
+up immediately, take my bath, and look them over," said &Iacute;lya
+&Iacute;lyitch. "Is it all ready for my bath?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean&mdash;'ready'?" said Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>With a groan he started to make the preliminary movement
+of getting up.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot to tell you," began Zakh&aacute;r, "while you were still
+asleep the manager sent word by the dv&oacute;rnik that it was imperatively
+necessary that you vacate the apartment: it is wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what of that? If the apartment is wanted of course
+we will move out. Why do you bother me with it? This is the
+third time you have spoken to me about it."</p>
+
+<p>"They bother me about it also."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell them that we will move out."</p>
+
+<p>"He says, 'For a month you have been promising,' says he,
+'and still you don't move out,' says he: 'we'll report the matter
+to the police.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Let him report," cried Obl&oacute;mof resolutely: "we will move
+out as soon as it is a little warmer, in the course of three
+weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"Three weeks, indeed! The manager says that the workmen
+are coming in a fortnight: everything is to be torn out. 'Move,'
+says he, 'either to-morrow or day after to-morrow.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh&mdash;eh&mdash;eh&mdash;that's too short notice: to-morrow? See here,
+what next? How would this minute suit? But don't you dare
+speak a word to me about apartments. I have already told you
+that once, and here you are again. Do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what shall I do?" demanded Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall you do? Now how is he going to get rid of
+me?" replied &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch. "He makes me responsible! How
+does it concern me? Don't you trouble me any further, but
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 6548]</a></span>
+make any arrangements you please, only so that we don't have
+to move yet. Can't you do your best for your master?"</p>
+
+<p>"But &Iacute;lya &Iacute;lyitch, little father [b&aacute;tiushka], what arrangements
+shall I make?" began Zakh&aacute;r in a hoarse whisper. "The house
+is not mine; how can we help being driven out of the place if
+they resort to force? If only the house were mine, then I would
+with the greatest pleasure&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There must be some way of bringing him around: tell him
+we have lived here so long; tell him we'll surely pay him."</p>
+
+<p>"I have," said Zakh&aacute;r.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say? He repeated his everlasting 'Move out,'
+says he; 'we want to make repairs on the apartment.' He wants
+to do over this large apartment and the doctor's for the wedding
+of the owner's son."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my good Lord!" exclaimed Obl&oacute;mof in despair; "what
+asses they are to get married!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned over on his back.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better write to the owner, sir," said Zakh&aacute;r. "Then
+perhaps he would not drive us out, but would give us a renewal
+of the lease."</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r as he said this made a gesture with his right hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then; as soon as I get up I will write him. You
+go to your room and I will think it over. You need not do
+anything about this," he added; "I myself shall have to work at
+all this miserable business myself."</p>
+
+<p>Zakh&aacute;r left the room, and Obl&oacute;mof began to ponder.</p>
+
+<p>But he was in a quandary which to think about,&mdash;his st&aacute;rosta's
+letter, or the removal to new lodgings, or should he undertake
+to make out his accounts? He was soon swallowed up in the
+flood of material cares and troubles, and there he still lay turning
+from side to side. Every once in a while would be heard
+his broken exclamation, "Akh, my God! life touches everything,
+reaches everywhere!"</p>
+
+<p>No one knows how long he would have lain there a prey to
+this uncertainty, had not the bell rung in the ante-room.</p>
+
+<p>"There is some one come already!" exclaimed Obl&oacute;mof,
+wrapping himself up in his khal&aacute;t, "and here I am not up yet;
+what a shame! Who can it be so early?"</p>
+
+<p>And still lying on his bed, he gazed curiously at the door.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 6549]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT" id="THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT"></a>THE BROTHERS DE GONCOURT</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Edmond</span> (1822-1896)<br />
+<span class="smcap">Jules</span> (1830-1870)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/cape.png" width="90" height="91" alt="E" title="E" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">dmond and Jules Huot De Goncourt, French writers who
+became famous alike for the perfectness of their collaboration,
+the originality of their methods, and the finish of their
+style, were born, the first in Nancy in 1822, the other in Paris in 1830.
+Until the death of Jules in 1870 they wrote nothing for the public
+that did not bear both their names; and so entirely identical were
+their tastes and judgment that it is impossible to say of a single sentence
+they composed that it was the sole product of one or the other.
+"Charming writers," Victor Hugo called
+them; "in unison a powerful writer, two
+minds from which springs a single jet of
+talent." Born of a noble family of moderate
+wealth, they were educated as became their
+station in life. Both had an early leaning
+toward the arts; but Edmond, in deference
+to the wishes of his family, took a government
+appointment and held the office till
+the death of his mother, when he was
+twenty-six years of age. Their father had
+died while they were boys.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/goncourt.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Edmond De Goncourt" title="Edmond De Goncourt" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Edmond De Goncourt</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Drawn together by their common bereavement
+and the death-bed injunction of their
+parent that Edmond should be the careful
+guardian of his younger brother, whose health had always been delicate,
+the young men then began a companionship which was broken
+only by death. They set out to make themselves acquainted with
+southern Europe, and at the same time to escape the political turmoils
+of Paris; and extended their travels into Africa, which country they
+found so congenial that in the first ardor of their enthusiasm they
+determined to settle there. Business arrangements, however, soon
+recalled them to Paris, where ties of friendship and other agreeable
+associations bound them fast to their native soil. They took up their
+residence in the metropolis, where they lived until a short time
+before the death of Jules, when, to be free from the roar of the city,
+they purchased a house in one of the suburbs. Their intellectual
+development may be traced through their Journal and letters to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 6550]</a></span>
+intimate friends, published by the surviving brother. From these it
+appears that most of their leisure hours during their travels were
+taken up with painting and drawing. Jules had attempted some dramatic
+compositions while at college, and Edmond had been strongly
+drawn to literature by the conversation of an aunt, of whom he saw
+much before his mother's death. It was while engaged with their
+brushes in 1850 that it occurred to the brothers to take up writing as
+a regular vocation; and thus was begun their remarkable literary
+partnership.</p>
+
+<p>Their first essay was a drama. It was rejected; whereupon, nothing
+daunted, they wrote a novel. It was entitled '18&mdash;,' and it is interesting
+to observe that here, at the very outset of their career, they
+seem to have had in mind the keynote of the chord on which they
+ever afterwards played: the eighteenth century was the chief source
+of their inspiration, and it was their life's endeavor to explore it and
+reproduce it for their contemporaries with painstaking fidelity. The
+novel engaged their serious and earnest attention, and when it was
+given to the publisher they watched for its appearance with painful
+anxiety. Unfortunately it was announced for the very day on which
+occurred the <i>Coup d'&Eacute;tat</i>. The book came out when Paris was in an
+uproar; and though Jules Janin, one of the most influential critics of
+the day, unexpectedly exploited it at great length in the Journal des
+D&eacute;bats, its circulation in that first edition was not more than sixty
+copies, most of which were distributed gratuitously.</p>
+
+<p>The blow was a hard one, but the brothers were not thus to be
+silenced, nor by the subsequent failure of other dramatic ventures and
+an effort to found a newspaper. They had been little more than
+imitators. They now entered the field they soon made their own.
+The writers of their day were for the most part classicists; a few
+before Victor Hugo were romanticists. The De Goncourts stood
+for the modern, what they could see and touch. In this way they
+became realists. What their own senses could not apprehend they at
+once rejected; all they saw they deemed worthy to be reproduced.
+They lived in a period of reconstruction after the devastation of the
+revolution. The refinement and elegance of the society of the later
+Bourbon monarchy, still within view, they yearned for and sought to
+restore. A series of monographs dealing with the art and the stage
+of these days, which appeared in 1851-2, won for them the first real
+recognition they enjoyed. These were followed by various critical
+essays on the same subjects, contributed to newspapers and periodicals,
+and a novel, 'La Lorette,' which had a large sale and marked
+the beginning of their success from a financial point of view. "This
+makes us realize," they wrote in their Journal, "that one can actually
+sell a book."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 6551]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Their reputation as men of letters was established by the publication
+in 1854-5 of 'Histoire de la Soci&eacute;t&eacute; Pendant la Revolution' and
+the same 'Pendant le Directoire' the aim of which, they said, was
+"to paint in vivid, simple colors the France of 1789 to 1800." This
+object they accomplished, so far as it concerned the society of which
+they themselves were descendants; but the reactionary spirit in them
+was too strong for an impartial view of the struggle, and their lack
+of true philosophic spirit and broad human sympathy led them to
+make a picture that, interesting as it is, is sadly distorted. Their
+vivid colors are lavished mainly on the outrages of the rioters and
+the sufferings of the aristocrats. But for wealth of detail, the result
+of tireless research, the history is of value as a record of the manners
+and customs of the fashionable set of the period. Of the same
+sort were their other semi-historical works: 'Portraits Intimes du
+XVIIIi&egrave;me Si&egrave;cle,' separate sketches of about a hundred more or
+less well-known figures of the age; 'L'Histoire de Marie Antoinette,'
+and 'La Femme au XVIIIi&egrave;me Si&egrave;cle,' in which the gossip and
+anecdote of former generations are told again almost as graphically
+as are those which the authors relate of their own circle in their
+memoirs. Their most important contribution to literature was their
+'L'Art au XVIIIi&egrave;me Si&egrave;cle,' monographs gathered and published
+in seventeen volumes, and representing a dozen years' labor. This
+was indeed a labor of love, and it was not in vain; for it was these
+appreciative studies more than anything else that turned public attention
+to the almost forgotten delicacy of the school of painters headed
+by Watteau, Fragonard, Latour, Boucher, Debricourt, and Greuze,
+whose influence has ever since been manifested on the side of sound
+taste and sanity in French art.</p>
+
+<p>A volume entitled 'Id&eacute;es et Sensations,' and their Journal and
+letters, complete the list of the more important of their works outside
+the field of fiction. The Journal will always be valuable as an
+almost complete document of the literary history of France in their
+time, made up as it is of impressions of and from the most important
+writers of the day, with whom they were on terms of intimate friendship,
+including Flaubert, Gautier, Renan, Sainte-Beuve, Hugo, Saint-Victor,
+Michelet, Zola, and George Sand. In fiction the De Goncourts
+were less prolific, but it is to their novels mainly that they owe their
+reputation for individuality, and as true "path-breakers" in literature.
+They have been called the initiators of modern French realism. Their
+friend Flaubert perhaps better deserves the title. Their determination
+to see for themselves all that could be seen, the result of which
+gave real worth to their historical work, even where their prejudice
+robbed it of weight, was what put the stamp of character upon
+their novels. How much importance they attached to correct and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 6552]</a></span>
+comprehensive observation may be gathered from their remark, "The
+art of learning how to see demands the longest apprenticeship of all
+the arts." They took life as they found it, examined it on every side,&mdash;rarely
+going far under the surface,&mdash;and then sought to reproduce it
+on their pages as the artist would put it on canvas. Capable of terseness,
+of suggestiveness, quick to note and communicate the vital spark,
+they were yet rarely content with it alone. Every minute particle of
+the body it vivified, they insisted on adding to their picture. Nothing
+was to be taken for granted; as nothing was accepted by them at
+second hand, so nothing was left to the imagination of the reader
+until their comprehensive view was his. It was in this way that they
+were realists. They did not seek out and expose to public view the
+grossness and unpleasantness of life. Their own preference was for
+the beautiful, and in their own lives they indulged their refined
+tastes. But they looked squarely at the world about them, the ugly
+with the beautiful, the impure with the pure, and they did not hesitate
+to describe one almost as faithfully as the other.</p>
+
+<p>Curiously, the discrimination against the masses and the bias that
+mar their history do not appear in their fiction. "They began writing
+history which was nothing but romance," says one of their critics,
+"and later wrote romance which in reality is history." Indeed, their
+novels are little more than sketches of what occurred around them.
+'Madame Gervaisais' is a character study of the aunt of strong literary
+predilections who influenced Edmond; 'Germinie Lacerteux' is
+the biography of their servant, at whose death, after long and faithful
+service, they discovered that she had led a life of singular
+duplicity; 'S&#339;ur Philom&egrave;ne' is a terribly true glimpse of hospital
+life, and 'Manette Salomon,' with its half-human monkey drawn from
+the life, is transferred without change from the Parisian studios under
+the Empire. 'Renee Mauperin' comes nearest to the model of an
+ordinary novel; but no one can read of the innocent tomboy girl
+struck down with fatal remorse at the consequences of her own natural
+action, on learning of her brother's dishonor, without feeling
+that this picture too was drawn from the life. Several of their
+stories were dramatized, but with scant success; and a play which
+they wrote, 'Henriette Mar&eacute;chal' and had produced at the Com&eacute;die
+Fran&ccedil;aise through the influence of Princess Mathilde, their constant
+friend and patroness, was almost howled down,&mdash;chiefly however for
+political reasons.</p>
+
+<p>After the death of Jules de Goncourt, his brother wrote several
+books of the same character as those which they produced in union,
+the best known of which are 'La Fille &Eacute;lisa,' and 'Ch&eacute;rie,' a study
+of a girl, said to have been inspired by the Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff.
+The best critics in France, notably Sa&iuml;nte-Beuve, have given
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 6553]</a></span>
+the brothers Goncourt a very high place in literature and conceded
+their originality. English reviewers have been less ready to exalt
+them, mainly on account of the offensive part of their realism. They
+have objected also to their superficiality as historians, and to their
+sympathy with the sentimental admirers of such types as Marie
+Antoinette; but they too have been ready to praise the brothers as
+leaders of a new fashion, and especially for their devotion to style.
+In this respect the Goncourts have few rivals in French literature.
+Balzac himself was not more finical in the choice of words, or more
+unsparing of his time and energy in writing and re-writing until his
+exact meaning, no more or less, had been expressed; and they covered
+up the marks of their toil better than he. In a letter to Zola,
+Edmond de Goncourt said:&mdash;"My own idea is that my brother died
+of work, and above all from the desire to elaborate the artistic form,
+the chiseled phrase, the workmanship of style." He himself spent a
+long life at this fine artistry, and died in Paris in July, 1896.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="TWO_FAMOUS_MEN" id="TWO_FAMOUS_MEN"></a>TWO FAMOUS MEN</h3>
+
+<h4>From the Journal of the De Goncourts</h4>
+
+<p>March 3<span class="smcap">D</span> [1862].&mdash;We took a walk and went off to find Th&eacute;ophile
+Gautier.... The street in which he lives is
+composed of the most squalid countrified buildings, of
+court-yards swarming with poultry, fruit shops whose doors are
+ornamented with little brooms of black feathers: just such a suburban
+street as Hervier might have painted.... We pushed
+open the door of a house, and found ourselves in the presence
+of the lord of epithet. The furniture was of gilded wood, covered
+with red damask, after the heavy Venetian style; there were fine
+old pictures of the Italian school; above the chimney a mirror
+innocent of quicksilver, on which were scraped colored arabesques
+and various Persian characters,&mdash;such a picture of meagre sumptuousness
+and faded splendor as one would find in the rooms of a
+retired actress, who had come in for some pictures through the
+bankruptcy of an Italian manager.</p>
+
+<p>When we asked him if we were disturbing him, he answered:
+"Not at all. I never work at home. I get through my 'copy'
+at the printing-office. They set up the type as I write. The
+smell of the printers' ink is a sure stimulant to work, for one
+feels the 'copy' must be handed in. I could write only a novel
+in this way now; unless I saw ten lines printed I could not get
+on to the next ten. The proof-sheet serves as a test to one's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 6554]</a></span>
+work. That which is already done becomes impersonal, but the
+actual 'copy' is part of yourself; it hangs like filaments from
+the root of your literary life, and has not yet been torn away. I
+have always been preparing corners where I should do my work,
+but when installed there I found I could do nothing. I must be
+in the midst of things, and can work only when a racket is going
+on about me; whereas, when I shut myself up for work the solitude
+tells upon me and makes me sad."</p>
+
+<p>From there Gautier got on the subject of the 'Queen of
+Sheba.' We admitted our infirmity, our physical incapacity of
+taking in musical sound; and indeed, a military band is the highest
+musical enjoyment of which we are capable. Whereupon
+Gautier said, "Well, I'm delighted to hear that: I am just like
+you; I prefer silence to music. I do know bad music from good,
+because part of my life was spent with a singer, but both are
+quite indifferent to me. Still it is curious that all the literary
+men of our day feel the same about music. Balzac abhorred it,
+Hugo cannot endure it, Lamartine has a horror of it. There
+are only a few painters who have a taste for it."</p>
+
+<p>Then Gautier fell to complaining of the times. "Perhaps I
+am getting an old man, but I begin to feel as if there were no
+more air to breathe. What is the use of wings if there is no air
+in which one can soar? I no longer feel as if I belonged to the
+present generation. Yes, 1830 was a glorious epoch, but I was
+too young by two or three years; I was not carried away by the
+current; I was not ready for it. I ought to have produced a
+very different sort of work."</p>
+
+<p>There was then some talk of Flaubert, of his literary methods,
+of his indefatigable patience, and of the seven years he
+devoted to a work of four hundred pages. "Just listen," observed
+Gautier, "to what Flaubert said to me the other day: 'It
+is finished. I have only ten more pages to write; but the ends
+of my sentences are all in my head.' So that he already hears
+in anticipation the music of the last words of his sentences before
+the sentences themselves have been written. Was it not a quaint
+expression to use? I believe he has devised a sort of literary
+rhythm. For instance, a phrase which begins in slow measure
+must not finish with a quick pace, unless some special effect is
+to be produced. Sometimes the rhythm is only apparent to himself,
+and escapes our notice. A story is not written for the
+purpose of being read aloud: yet he shouts his to himself as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 6555]</a></span>
+he writes them. These shouts present to his own ears harmonies,
+but his readers seem unaware of them."</p>
+
+<p>Gautier's daughters have a charm of their own, a species of
+Oriental languor, deep dreamy eyes, veiled by heavy eyelids, and
+a regularity in their gestures and movements which they inherit
+from their father; but this regularity is tempered in them by
+womanly grace. There is a charm about them which is not all
+French; nevertheless there is a French element about it, their
+little tomboyish tricks and expressions, their habit of pouting,
+the shrugging of their shoulders, the irony which escapes through
+the thin veil of childishness intended to conceal it. All these
+points distinguish them from ordinary society girls, and make
+clear a strong individuality of character which renders them fearless
+in expressing their likings and antipathies. They display
+liberty of speech, and have often the manner of a woman whose
+face is hidden by a mask; and yet one finds here simplicity,
+candor, and a charming absence of reserve, utterly unknown to
+the ordinary young girl.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>November 23<span class="smcap">D</span> [1863].&mdash;We have been to thank Michelet for
+the flattering lines he wrote about us.</p>
+
+<p>He lives in the Rue de l'Ouest, at the end of the Jardin
+du Luxembourg, in a large house which might almost be
+workmen's dwellings. His flat is on the third floor. A maid
+opened the door and announced us. We penetrated into a small
+study.</p>
+
+<p>The wife of the historian has a young, serious face; she was
+seated on a chair beside the desk on which the lamp was placed,
+with her back to the window. Michelet sat on a couch of green
+velvet, and was banked up by cushions.</p>
+
+<p>His attitude reminded us of his historical work: the lower
+portions of his body were in full sight, whilst the upper were
+half concealed; the face was a mere shadow surrounded with
+snowy white locks; from this shadowy mass emerged a professorial,
+sonorous, singsong voice, consciously important, and in which
+the ascending and descending scale produced a continuous cooing
+sound.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke to us in a most appreciative manner of our study
+of Watteau, and then passed on to the interesting study which
+might be written on French furniture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 6556]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You gentlemen, who are observers of human nature," he
+cried suddenly, "there is a history you should write,&mdash;the history
+of the lady's-maid. I do not speak of Madame de Maintenon;
+but you have Mademoiselle de Launai, the Duchesse de Grammont's
+Julie, who exercised on her mistress so great an influence,
+especially in the Corsican affair. Madame Du Deffand said sometimes
+that there were only two people sincerely attached to her,
+D'Alembert and her maid. Oh! domesticity has played a great
+part in history, though men-servants have been of comparative
+unimportance....</p>
+
+<p>"I was once going through England, traveling from York to
+Halifax. There were pavements in the country lanes, with the
+grass growing on each side as carefully kept as the pavements
+themselves; close by, sheep were grazing, and the whole scene
+was lit up by gas. A singular sight!"</p>
+
+<p>Then after a short pause:&mdash;"Have you noticed that the physiognomy
+of the great men of to-day is so rarely in keeping with
+their intellect? Look at their portraits, their photographs: there
+are no longer any good portraits. Remarkable people no longer
+possess in their faces anything which distinguishes them from
+ordinary folk. Balzac had nothing characteristic. Would you
+recognize Lamartine if you saw him? There is nothing in the
+shape of his head, or in his lustreless eyes, nothing but a certain
+elegance which age has not affected. The fact is that in these
+days there is too great an accumulation of people and things,
+much more so than in former times. We assimilate too much
+from other people, and this being the case, we lose even the
+individuality of our features; we present the portrait of a collective
+set of people rather than of ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>We rose to take our leave; he accompanied us to the door;
+then by the light of the lamp he carried in his hand we saw,
+for a second at least, this marvelous historian of dreams, the
+great somnambulist of the past and brilliant talker of the present.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 6557]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_SUICIDE" id="THE_SUICIDE"></a>THE SUICIDE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Sister Philom&egrave;ne'</h4>
+
+<p>The next morning the whole hospital knew that Barnier, having
+scratched his hand on the previous day while dissecting
+a body in a state of purulent infection, was dying in terrible
+agonies.</p>
+
+<p>When at four o'clock Malivoire, quitting for a few moments
+the bedside of his friend, came to replace him in the service, the
+Sister went up to him. She followed from bed to bed, dogging
+his steps, without however accosting him, without speaking,
+watching him intently with her eyes fixed on his. As he was
+leaving the ward:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" she asked, in the brief tone with which women stop
+the doctor on his last visit at the threshold of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"No hope," said Malivoire, with a gesture of despair; "there
+is nothing to be done. It began at his right ankle, went up the
+leg and thigh, and has attacked all the articulations. Such agonies,
+poor fellow! It will be a mercy when it's over."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he be dead before night?" asked the Sister calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! He will live through the night. It is the same
+case as that of Raguideau three years ago; and Raguideau lasted
+forty-eight hours."</p>
+
+<p>That evening, at ten o'clock, Sister Philom&egrave;ne might be seen
+entering the church of Notre Dame des Victoires.</p>
+
+<p>The lamps were being lowered, the lighted tapers were being
+put out one by one with a long-handled extinguisher. The priest
+had just left the vestry.</p>
+
+<p>The Sister inquired where he lived, and was told that his
+house was a couple of steps from the church, in the Rue de la
+Banque.</p>
+
+<p>The priest was just going into the house when she entered
+behind, pushing open the door he was closing.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, Sister," he said, unfurling his wet umbrella and
+placing it on the tiled floor in the ante-room. And he turned
+toward her. She was on her knees. "What are you doing,
+Sister?" he said, astonished at her attitude. "Get up, my child.
+This is not a fit place. Come, get up!"</p>
+
+<p>"You will save him, will you not?" and Philom&egrave;ne caught
+hold of the priest's hands as he stretched them out to help her to
+rise. "Why do you object to my remaining on my knees?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 6558]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, my child, do not be so excited. It is God alone,
+remember, who can save. I can but pray."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you can only pray," she said in a disappointed tone.
+"Yes, that is true."</p>
+
+<p>And her eyes sank to the ground. After a moment's pause
+the priest went on:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Sister, sit down there. You are calmer now, are you
+not? Tell me, what is it you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is dying," said Philom&egrave;ne, rising as she spoke. "He will
+probably not live through the night;" and she began to cry. "It
+is for a young man of twenty-seven years of age; he has never
+performed any of his religious duties, never been near a church,
+never prayed to God since his first communion. He will refuse
+to listen to anything. He no longer knows a prayer even. He
+will listen neither to priest nor any one. And I tell you it is
+all over with him,&mdash;he is dying. Then I remembered your Confraternity
+of Notre Dame des Victoires, since it is devoted to those
+who do not believe. Come, you must save him!"</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And perhaps he is dying at this very moment. Oh! promise
+me you will do all at once, all that is in the Confraternity book;
+the prayers,&mdash;everything, in short. You will have him prayed
+for at once, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, my poor child, it is Friday to-day, and the Confraternity
+only meets on Thursday."</p>
+
+<p>"Thursday only&mdash;why? It will be too late Thursday. He will
+never live till Thursday. Come, you must save him; you have
+saved many another."</p>
+
+<p>Sister Philom&egrave;ne looked at the priest with wide-opened eyes,
+in which through her tears rose a glance of revolt, impatience,
+and command. For one instant in that room there was no longer
+a Sister standing before a priest, but a woman face to face with
+an old man.</p>
+
+<p>The priest resumed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"All I can do at present for that young man, my dear daughter,
+is to apply to his benefit all the prayers and good works that
+are being carried on by the Confraternity, and I will offer them
+up to the Blessed and Immaculate Heart of Mary to obtain his
+conversion. I will pray for him to-morrow at mass, and again on
+Saturday and Sunday."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am so thankful," said Philom&egrave;ne, who felt tears rise
+gently to her eyes as the priest spoke to her. "Now I am full
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 6559]</a></span>
+of hope; he will be converted, he will have pity on himself. Give
+me your blessing for him."</p>
+
+<p>"But Sister, I only bless from the altar, in the pulpit, or in
+the confessional. There only am I the minister of God. Here,
+my Sister, here I am but a weak man, a miserable sinner."</p>
+
+<p>"That does not signify; you are always God's minister, and
+you cannot, you would not, refuse me; he is at the point of
+death."</p>
+
+<p>She fell on her knees as she spoke. The priest blessed her,
+and added:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is nearly eleven o'clock, Sister; you have nearly three
+miles to get home, all Paris to cross at this late hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am not afraid," replied Philom&egrave;ne with a smile;
+"God knows why I am in the street. Moreover, I will tell my
+beads on the way. The Blessed Virgin will be with me."...</p>
+
+<p>The same evening, Barnier, rousing himself from a silence
+that had lasted the whole day, said to Malivoire, "You will write
+to my mother. You will tell her that this often happens in our
+profession."</p>
+
+<p>"But you are not yet as bad as all that, my dear fellow,"
+replied Malivoire, bending over the bed. "I am sure I shall
+save you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I chose my man too well for that. How well I took
+you in, my poor Malivoire!" and he smiled almost. "You understand,
+I could not kill myself. I did not wish to be the death of
+my old mother. But an accident&mdash;that settles everything. You
+will take all my books, do you hear? and my case of instruments
+also. I wish you to have all. You wonder why I have killed
+myself, don't you? Come nearer. It is on account of that
+woman. I never loved but her in all my life. They did not
+give her enough chloroform; I told them so. Ah! if you had
+heard her scream when she awoke&mdash;before it was over! That
+scream still re-echoes in my ears! However," he continued, after
+a nervous spasm, "if I had to begin again, I would choose some
+other way of dying, some way in which I should not suffer so
+much. Then, you know, she died, and I fancied I had killed
+her. She is ever before me,... covered with blood.... And
+then I took to drinking. I drank because I love her still....
+That's all!"</p>
+
+<p>Barnier relapsed into silence. After a long pause, he again
+spoke, and said to Malivoire:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 6560]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You will tell my mother to take care of the little lad."</p>
+
+<p>After another pause, the following words escaped him:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The Sister would have said a prayer."</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after, he asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What o'clock is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"Time is not up yet;... I have still some hours to live....
+I shall last till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>A little later he again inquired the time, and crossing his
+hands on his breast, in a faint voice he called Malivoire and
+tried to speak to him. But Malivoire could not catch the words
+he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>Then the death-rattle began, and lasted till morn....</p>
+
+<p>A candle lighted up the room.</p>
+
+<p>It burnt slowly, it lighted up the four white walls on which
+the coarse ochre paint of the door and of the two cupboards cut
+a sharp contrast....</p>
+
+<p>On the iron bedstead with its dimity curtains, a sheet lay
+thrown over a motionless body, molding the form as wet linen
+might do, indicating with the inflexibility of an immutable line
+the rigidity, from the tip of the toes to the sharp outline of the
+face, of what it covered.</p>
+
+<p>Near a white wooden table Malivoire, seated in a large
+wicker arm-chair, watched and dozed, half slumbering and yet
+not quite asleep.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence of the room nothing could be heard but the
+ticking of the dead man's watch.</p>
+
+<p>From behind the door something seemed gently to move and
+advance, the key turned in the lock, and Sister Philom&egrave;ne stood
+beside the bed. Without looking at Malivoire, without seeing
+him, she knelt down and prayed in the attitude of a kneeling
+marble statue; and the folds of her gown were as motionless as
+the sheet that covered the dead man.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of a quarter of an hour she rose, walked away
+without once looking round, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, awaking at the hollow sound of the coffin
+knocking against the narrow stairs, Malivoire vaguely recalled
+the night's apparition, and wondered if he had dreamed it; and
+going mechanically up to the table by the bedside, he sought
+for the lock of hair he had cut off for Barnier's mother: the
+lock of hair had vanished.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 6561]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="THE_AWAKENING" id="THE_AWAKENING"></a>THE AWAKENING</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Ren&eacute;e Mauperin'</h4>
+
+<p>A little stage had been erected at the end of the Mauperins'
+drawing-room. The footlights were hidden behind a screen
+of foliage and flowering shrubs. Ren&eacute;e, with the help of
+her drawing-master, had painted the curtain, which represented
+a view on the banks of the Seine. On either side of the stage
+hung a bill, on which were these words, written by hand:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+LA BRICHE THEATRE<br />
+<small>THIS EVENING,</small><br /><br />
+'<span class="smcap">The Caprice</span>,'<br /><br />
+To conclude with<br />
+'<span class="smcap">Harlequin, A Bigamist.</span>'</p>
+
+<p>And then followed the names of the actors.</p>
+
+<p>On all the chairs in the house, which had been seized and
+arranged in rows before the stage, women in low gowns were
+squeezed together, mixing their skirts, their lace, the sparkle of
+their diamonds, and the whiteness of their shoulders. The folding
+doors of the drawing-room had been taken down, and showed,
+in the little drawing-room which led to the dining-room, a crowd
+of men in white neckties, standing on tiptoe.</p>
+
+<p>The curtain rose upon 'The Caprice.' Ren&eacute;e played with much
+spirit the part of Madame de L&eacute;ry. Henry, as the husband, revealed
+one of those real theatrical talents which are often found
+in cold young men and in grave men of the world. Naomi herself&mdash;carried
+away by Henry's acting, carefully prompted by
+Denoisel from behind the scenes, a little intoxicated by her audience&mdash;played
+her little part of a neglected wife very tolerably.
+This was a great relief to Madame Bourjot. Seated in the front
+row, she had followed her daughter with anxiety. Her pride
+dreaded a failure. The curtain fell, the applause burst out, and
+all the company were called for. Her daughter had not been
+ridiculous; she was happy in this great success, and she composedly
+gave herself up to the speeches, opinions, congratulations,
+which, as in all representations of private theatricals, followed
+the applause and continued in murmurs. Amidst all that she
+thus vaguely heard, one sentence, pronounced close by her,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 6562]</a></span>
+reached her ears clear and distinct above the buzz of general
+conversation:&mdash;"Yes, it is his sister, I know; but I think that
+for the part he is not sufficiently in love with her, and really
+too much in love with his wife: did you notice it?" And the
+speaker, feeling that she was being overheard by Madame Bourjot,
+leaned over and whispered in her neighbor's ear. Madame
+Bourjot became serious.</p>
+
+<p>After a pause the curtain went up again, and Henry Mauperin
+appeared as Pierrot or Harlequin, not in the traditional
+sack of white calico and black cap, but as an Italian harlequin,
+with a white three-cornered hat, and dressed entirely in white
+satin from head to foot. A shiver of interest ran through the
+women, proving that the costume and the man were both charming;
+and the folly began.</p>
+
+<p>It was the mad story of Pierrot, married to one woman and
+wishing to marry another; a farce intermingled with passion,
+which had been unearthed by a playwright, with the help of a
+poet, from a collection of old comic plays. Ren&eacute;e this time acted
+the part of the neglected woman, who in various disguises interfered
+between her husband and his gallant adventures, and Naomi
+that of the woman he loved. Henry, in his scenes of love with
+the latter, carried all before him. He played with youth, with
+brilliancy, with excitement. In the scene in which he avows his
+love, his voice was full of the passionate cry of a declaration
+which overflows and swamps everything. True, he had to act
+with the prettiest Columbine in the world: Naomi looked delicious
+that evening in her bridal costume of Louis XVI., copied exactly
+from the 'Bride's Minuet,' a print by Debucourt, which Barousse
+had lent for the purpose.</p>
+
+<p>A sort of enchantment filled the whole room, and reached
+Madame Bourjot; a sort of sympathetic complicity with the actors
+seemed to encourage the pretty couple to love one another. The
+piece went on. Now and again Henry's eyes seemed to look for
+those of Madame Bourjot, over the footlights. Meanwhile, Ren&eacute;e
+appeared disguised as the village bailiff; it only remained to sign
+the contract; Pierrot, taking the hand of the woman he loved,
+began to tell her of all the happiness he was going to have with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>The woman who sat next to Madame Bourjot felt her lean
+somewhat on her shoulder. Henry finished his speech, the piece
+disentangled itself and came to an end. All at once Madame
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 6563]</a></span>
+Bourjot's neighbor saw something glide down her arm; it was
+Madame Bourjot, who had just fainted.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>"Oh, do pray go indoors," said Madame Bourjot to the people
+who were standing around her. She had been carried into the
+garden. "It is past now; it is really nothing; it was only the
+heat." She was quite pale, but she smiled. "I only want a little
+air. Let M. Henry only stay with me."</p>
+
+<p>The audience retired. Scarcely had the sound of feet died
+away, when&mdash;"You love her!" said Madame Bourjot, seizing
+Henry's arm as though she were taking him prisoner with her
+feverish hands; "you love her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Madame&mdash;" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue! you lie!" And she threw his arm from
+her. Henry bowed.&mdash;"I know all. I have seen all. But look
+at me!" and with her eyes she closely scanned his face. Henry
+stood before her, his head bent.&mdash;"At least speak to me! You
+can speak, at any rate! Ah, I see it,&mdash;you can only act in her
+company!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to say to you, Laura," said Henry in his
+softest and clearest voice. Madame Bourjot started at this name
+of Laura as though he had touched her. "I have struggled for
+a year, madame," began Henry; "I have no excuse to make.
+But my heart is fast. We knew each other as children. The
+charm has grown day by day. I am very unhappy, madame, at
+having to acknowledge the truth to you. I love your daughter,
+that is true."</p>
+
+<p>"But have you ever spoken to her? I blush for her when
+there are people there! Have you ever looked at her? Do you
+think her pretty? What possesses you men? Come! I am
+better-looking than she is! You men are fools. And besides, my
+friend, I have spoiled you. Go to her and ask her to caress your
+pride, to tickle your vanity, to flatter and to serve your ambitions,&mdash;for
+you are ambitious: I know you! Ah, M. Mauperin, one
+can only find that once in a lifetime! And it is only women of
+my age, old women like me,&mdash;do you hear me?&mdash;who love the
+future of the people whom they love! You were not my lover,
+you were my grandchild!" And at this word, her voice sounded
+as though it came from the bottom of her heart. Then immediately
+changing her tone&mdash;"But don't be foolish! I tell you
+you don't really love my daughter; it is not true: she is rich!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 6564]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O madame!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious! there are lots of people. They have been
+pointed out to me. It pays sometimes to begin with the mother
+and finish with the dower. And a million, you know, will gild
+a good many pills."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak lower, I implore&mdash;for your own sake: some one has
+just opened a window."</p>
+
+<p>"Calmness is very fine, M. Mauperin, very fine, very fine,"
+repeated Madame Bourjot. And her low, hissing voice seemed
+to stifle her.</p>
+
+<p>Clouds were scudding across the sky, and passed over the
+moon looking like huge bats' wings. Madame Bourjot gazed
+fixedly into the darkness, straight in front of her. Her elbows
+resting on her knees, her weight thrown on to her heels, she
+was beating with the points of her satin shoes the gravel of the
+path. After a few minutes she sat upright, stretched out her
+arms two or three times wildly and as though but half awake;
+then, hastily and with jerks, she pushed her hand down between
+her gown and her waistband, pressing her hand against the ribbon
+as though she would break it. Then she rose and began to
+walk. Henry followed her.</p>
+
+<p>"I intend, sir, that we shall never see each other again," she
+said to him, without turning round.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed near the basin, she handed him her handkerchief:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Wet that for me."</p>
+
+<p>Henry put one knee on the margin and gave her back the
+lace, which he had moistened. She laid it on her forehead and
+on her eyes. "Now let us go in," she said; "give me your
+arm."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear madame, what courage!" said Madame Mauperin,
+going to meet Madame Bourjot as she entered; "but it is unwise
+of you. Let me order your carriage."</p>
+
+<p>"On no account," answered Madame Bourjot hastily: "I thank
+you. I promised that I would sing for you, I think. I am going
+to sing."</p>
+
+<p>And Madame Bourjot advanced to the piano, graceful and
+valiant, with the heroic smile on her face wherewith the actors
+of society hide from the public the tears that they shed within
+themselves, and the wounds which are only known to their own
+hearts.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 6565]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="EDMUND_GOSSE" id="EDMUND_GOSSE"></a>EDMUND GOSSE</h2>
+
+<h4>(1849-)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/cape.png" width="90" height="91" alt="E" title="E" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">dmund William Gosse, or Edmund Gosse, to give him the
+name he has of late years adopted, is a Londoner, the son
+of P.H. Gosse, an English zo&ouml;logist of repute. His education
+did not embrace the collegiate training, but he was brought up
+amid cultured surroundings, read largely, and when but eighteen was
+appointed an assistant librarian in the British Museum, at the age of
+twenty-six receiving the position of translator to the Board of Trade.
+Gosse is a good example of the cultivated man of letters who fitted
+himself thoroughly for his profession, though lacking the formal scholastic
+drill of the university.</p>
+
+<p>He began as a very young man to write for the leading English
+periodicals, contributing papers and occasional poems to the Saturday
+Review, Academy, and Cornhill Magazine, and soon gaining critical
+recognition. In 1872 and 1874 he traveled in Scandinavia and Holland,
+making literary studies which bore fruit in one of his best critical
+works. He made his literary bow when twenty-one with the
+volume 'Madrigals, Songs, and Sonnets' (1870), which was well received,
+winning praise from Tennyson. His essential qualities as a
+verse-writer appear in it: elegance and care of workmanship, close
+study of nature, felicity in phrasing, and a marked tendency to draw
+on literary culture for subject and reference. Other works of poetry,
+'On Viol and Flute' (1873), 'New Poems' (1879), 'Firdausi in Exile'
+(1885), 'In Russet and Gold' (1894), with the dramas 'King Erik'
+(1876) and 'The Unknown Lover' (1878), show an increasingly firm
+technique and a broadening of outlook, with some loss of the happy
+singing quality which characterized the first volume. Gosse as a poet
+may be described as a lyrist with attractive descriptive powers. Together
+with his fellow poets Lang and Dobson, he revived in English
+verse the old French metrical forms, such as the roundel, triolet, and
+ballade, and he has been very receptive to the new in literary form
+and thought, while keeping a firm grip on the classic models.</p>
+
+<p>As an essayist, Gosse is one of the most accomplished and agreeable
+of modern English writers; he has comprehensive culture and
+catholic sympathy, and commands a picturesque style, graceful and
+rich without being florid. His 'Studies in the Literature of Northern
+Europe' (1879) introduced Ibsen and other little-known foreign writers
+to British readers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 6566]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gosse has been a thorough student of English literature prior to
+the nineteenth century, and has made a specialty of the literary history
+of the eighteenth century, his series of books in this field including&mdash;'Seventeenth-Century
+Studies' (1883), 'From Shakespeare to
+Pope' (1885), 'The Literature of the Eighteenth Century' (1889),
+'The Jacobean Poets' (1894), to which may be added the volume of
+contemporaneous studies 'Critical Kit-Kats' (1896). Some of these
+books are based on the lectures delivered by Gosse as Clark Lecturer
+at Trinity College, Cambridge. He has also written biographies of
+Sir Walter Raleigh and Congreve, and his 'Life of Thomas Gray'
+(1882) and 'Works of Thomas Gray' (1884) comprise the best edition
+and setting-forth of that poet. In such labors as that of the editing
+of Heinemann's 'International Library,' his influence has been salutary
+in the popularization of the best literature of the world. His
+interest in Ibsen led him to translate, in collaboration with William
+Archer, the dramatic critic of London, the Norwegian's play 'The
+Master Builder.'</p>
+
+<p>Edmund Gosse, as editor, translator, critic, and poet, has done
+varied and excellent work. Sensitive to many literatures, and to good
+literature everywhere, he has remained stanchly English in spirit, and
+has combined scholarship with popular qualities of presentation. He
+has thus contributed not a little to the furtherance of literature in
+England.</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[The poems are all taken from 'On Viol and Flute,' published by Henry Holt
+&amp; Co., New York.]</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="FEBRUARY_IN_ROME" id="FEBRUARY_IN_ROME"></a>FEBRUARY IN ROME</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When Roman fields are red with cyclamen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in the palace gardens you may find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Under great leaves and sheltering briony-bind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clusters of cream-white violets, oh then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ruined city of immortal men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must smile, a little to her fate resigned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And through her corridors the slow warm wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such soft favonian airs upon a flute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such shadowy censers burning live perfume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 6567]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="DESIDERIUM" id="DESIDERIUM"></a>DESIDERIUM</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sit there for ever, dear, and lean<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In marble as in fleeting flesh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the tall gray reeds that screen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The river when the breeze is fresh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ever let the morning light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stream down that forehead broad and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round that cheek for my delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Already that flushed moment grows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So dark, so distant: through the ranks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of scented reed the river flows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still murmuring to its willowy banks;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we can never hope to share<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again that rapture fond and rare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless you turn immortal there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is no other way to hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These webs of mingled joy and pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like gossamer their threads enfold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The journeying heart without a strain,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then break, and pass in cloud or dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And while the ecstatic soul goes through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are withered in the parching blue.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hold, Time, a little while thy glass.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Youth, fold up those peacock wings!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More rapture fills the years that pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than any hope the future brings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some for to-morrow rashly pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some desire to hold to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I am sick for yesterday.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since yesterday the hills were blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That shall be gray for evermore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fair sunset was shot through<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With color never seen before!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tyrannic Love smiled yesterday,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lost the terrors of his sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But is a god again to-day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, who will give us back the past?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah woe, that youth should love to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like this swift Thames that speeds so fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And is so fain to find the sea,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 6568]</a></span><span class="i0">That leaves this maze of shadow and sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These creeks down which blown blossoms creep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For breakers of the homeless deep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then sit for ever, dear, in stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As when you turned with half a smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I will haunt this islet lone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And with a dream my tears beguile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in my reverie forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stars and suns were made to set;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That love grows cold, or eyes are wet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="LYING_IN_THE_GRASS" id="LYING_IN_THE_GRASS"></a>LYING IN THE GRASS</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Between two golden tufts of summer grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see the world through hot air as through glass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by my face sweet lights and colors pass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Before me dark against the fading sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I watch three mowers mowing, as I lie:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With brawny arms they sweep in harmony.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Brown English faces by the sun burnt red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rich glowing color on bare throat and head,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart would leap to watch them, were I dead!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And in my strong young living as I lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I seem to move with them in harmony,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fourth is mowing, and the fourth am I.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The music of the scythes that glide and leap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young men whistling as their great arms sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the perfume and sweet sense of sleep,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The weary butterflies that droop their wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dreamy nightingale that hardly sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the lassitude of happy things,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is mingling with the warm and pulsing blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gushes through my veins a languid flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feeds my spirit as the sap a bud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behind the mowers, on the amber air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dark-green beech wood rises, still and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A white path winding up it like a stair.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 6569]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And see that girl, with pitcher on her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clean white apron on her gown of red,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her evensong of love is but half said:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She waits the youngest mower. Now he goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her cheeks are redder than a wild blush-rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They climb up where the deepest shadows close.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But though they pass, and vanish, I am there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I watch his rough hands meet beneath her hair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their broken speech sounds sweet to me like prayer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! now the rosy children come to play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their clear, high voices sound from far away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They know so little why the world is sad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They dig themselves warm graves, and yet are glad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their muffled screams and laughter make me mad!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I long to go and play among them there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unseen, like wind, to take them by the hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gently make their rosy cheeks more fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The happy children! full of frank surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sudden whims and innocent ecstasies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Godhead sparkles from their liquid eyes!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No wonder round those urns of mingled clays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Tuscan potters fashioned in old days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And colored like the torrid earth ablaze,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We find the little gods and Loves portrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through ancient forests wandering undismayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fluting hymns of pleasure unafraid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They knew, as I do now, what keen delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A strong man feels to watch the tender flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of little children playing in his sight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I do not hunger for a well-stored mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only wish to live my life, and find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart in unison with all mankind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My life is like the single dewy star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That trembles on the horizon's primrose bar,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A microcosm where all things living are.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 6570]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And if, among the noiseless grasses, Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should come behind and take away my breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should not rise as one who sorroweth:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For I should pass, but all the world would be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full of desire and young delight and glee,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And why should men be sad through loss of me?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The light is flying: in the silver blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young moon shines from her bright window through:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mowers are all gone, and I go too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 6571]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL" id="RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL"></a>RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL</h2>
+
+<h4>(1823-)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capr.png" width="90" height="90" alt="R" title="R" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">udolf Von Gottschall was born in Breslau, September 30th,
+1823. He was the son of a Prussian artillery officer, and as a
+lad gave early evidence of extraordinary talent. His father
+was transferred to the Rhine, and young Gottschall was sent successively
+to the gymnasiums of Mainz and Coblenz. Even in his school
+days, and before he entered the university, he had through his cleverness
+attained a certain degree of eminence. His career at the
+University of K&ouml;nigsberg, whither he went to pursue the study of
+jurisprudence, was interrupted by the results attendant upon a youthful
+ebullition of the spirit of freedom. His sympathy with the revolutionary
+element was too boldly expressed,
+and when in 1842 he published 'Lieder der
+Gegenwart' (Songs of the Present), he found
+it necessary to leave the university in order
+to avert impending consequences. In the
+following year he published 'Censurfl&uuml;chtlinge'
+(Fugitives from the Censor), a poem
+of a kind not in the least likely to conciliate
+the authorities. He remained for a
+time with Count Reichenbach in Silesia, and
+then went to Berlin, where he was allowed
+to complete his studies. He was however
+refused the privilege of becoming a university
+docent, although he had regularly taken
+his degree of <i>Dr. Juris</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/gottschall.png" width="170" height="211" alt="R. von Gottschall" title="R. von Gottschall" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">R. von Gottschall</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He now devoted himself wholly to poetry and general literature.
+For a while he held the position of stage manager in the theatre of
+K&ouml;nigsberg, and during this period produced the dramas 'Der Blinde
+von Alcal&aacute;' (The Blind Man of Alcal&aacute;: 1846), and 'Lord Byron in
+Italien' (Lord Byron in Italy: 1848). After leaving K&ouml;nigsberg he
+frequently changed his residence, living in Hamburg and Breslau, and
+later in Posen, where in 1852 he was editor of a newspaper. In 1853
+he went to Italy, and after his return he settled in Leipzig. Here
+he definitely established himself, and undertook the editing of Bl&auml;tter
+f&uuml;r Litterarische Unterhaltung (Leaves for Literary Amusement), and
+also of the monthly periodical Unsere Zeit (Our Time). He wrote
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 6572]</a></span>
+profusely, and exerted an appreciable influence upon contemporary
+literature. He was ennobled by the Emperor in 1877.</p>
+
+<p>As a poet and man of letters, Gottschall possesses unusual gifts,
+and is a writer of most extraordinary activity. His fecundity is astonishing,
+and the amount of his published work fills many volumes. His
+versatility is no less remarkable than his productiveness. Dramatist
+and critic, novelist and poet,&mdash;in all his various fields he is never
+mediocre. Chief among his dramatic works are the tragedies 'Katharina
+Howard'; 'King Carl XII.'; 'Bernhard of Weimar'; 'Amy Robsart';
+'Arabella Stuart'; and the excellent comedy 'Pitt and Fox.'
+Of narrative poems the best known are 'Die G&ouml;ttin, ein Hohes Lied
+vom Weibe' (The Goddess, a Song of Praise of Woman), 1852; 'Carlo
+Zeno,' 1854; and 'Sebastopol,' 1856.</p>
+
+<p>He has published numerous volumes of verses which take a worthy
+rank in the poetry of the time. His first 'Gedichte' (Poems) appeared
+in 1849; 'Neue Gedichte' (New Poems) in 1858; 'Kriegslieder'(War
+Songs) in 1870; and 'Janus' and 'Kriegs und Friedens Gedichte'
+(Poems of War and Peace) in 1873. In his novels he is no less successful,
+and of these may be mentioned&mdash;'Im Banne des Schwarzen
+Adlers' (In the Ban of the Black Eagle: 1876); 'Welke Bl&auml;tter' (Withered
+Leaves: 1878); and 'Das Goldene Kalb' (The Golden Calf: 1880).</p>
+
+<p>It is however chiefly as critic that his power has been most widely
+exerted, and prominent among the noteworthy productions of later
+years stand his admirable 'Portr&auml;ts und Studien' (Portraits and Studies:
+1870-71); and 'Die Deutsche Nationallitteratur in der Ersten
+H&auml;lfte des 19. Jahrhunderts' (The German National Literature in the
+First Half of the Nineteenth Century: 1855), continued to the present
+time in 1892, when the whole appeared as 'The German National
+Literature of the Nineteenth Century.'</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="HEINRICH_HEINE" id="HEINRICH_HEINE"></a>HEINRICH HEINE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Portraits and Studies'</h4>
+
+<p>About no recent poet has so much been said and sung as about
+Heinrich Heine. The youngest writer, who for the first
+time tries his pen, does not neglect to sketch with uncertain
+outlines the portrait of this poet; and the oldest sour-tempered
+professor of literature, who turns his back upon the efforts of
+the present with the most distinguished disapproval, lets fall on
+the picture a few rays of light, in order to prove the degeneration
+of modern literature in the Mephistophelean features of this
+its chief. Heine's songs are everywhere at home. They are to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 6573]</a></span>
+be found upon the music rack of the piano, in the school-books,
+in the slender libraries of minor officers and young clerks. However
+difficult it may be to compile an <i>editio castigata</i> of his poems,
+every age, every generation has selected from among them that
+which has delighted it. Citations from Heine, winged words in
+verse and prose, buzz through the air of the century like a swarm
+of insects: splendid butterflies with gayly glistening wings, beautiful
+day moths and ghostly night moths, tormenting gnats, and
+bees armed with evil stings. Heine's works are canonical books
+for the intellectual, who season their judgments with citations
+from this poet, model their conversation on his style, interpret
+him, expand the germ cell of his wit to a whole fabric of clever
+developments. Even if he is not a companion on the way through
+life, like great German poets, and smaller Brahmins who for every
+day of our house-and-life calendar give us an aphorism on the
+road, there are nevertheless, in the lives of most modern men,
+moods with which Heine's verse harmonize with wondrous sympathy;
+moments in which the intimacy with this poet is greater
+than the friendship, even if this be of longer duration, with our
+classic poets.</p>
+
+<p>It is apparently idle to attempt to say anything new of so
+much discussed a singer of modern times, since testimony favorable
+and unfavorable has been drained to exhaustion by friend
+and foe. Who does not know Heine,&mdash;or rather, who does
+not believe that he knows him? for, as is immediately to be
+added, acquaintance with this poet extends really only to a few
+of his songs, and to the complete picture which is delivered
+over ready-made from one history of literature into another.
+Nothing, however, is more perilous and more fatal than literary
+tradition! Not merely decrees and laws pass along by inheritance,
+like a constitutional infirmity, but literary judgments too.
+They form at last a subject of instruction like any other; a dead
+piece of furniture in the spiritual housekeeping, which, like everything
+that has been learned, is set as completed to one side.
+We know enough of this sort of fixed pictures, which at last pass
+along onward as the fixed ideas of a whole epoch, until a later
+unprejudiced investigation dissolves this rigid-grown wisdom, sets
+it to flowing, and forms out of a new mixture of its elements a
+new and more truthful portrait.</p>
+
+<p>It is not to be affirmed however that Heine's picture, as it
+stands fixed and finished in the literature and the opinion of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 6574]</a></span>
+present, is mistaken and withdrawn. It is dead, like every picture;
+there is lacking the living, changing play of features. We
+have of Heine only one picture before us; of our great poets
+several. Goethe in his "storm and stress," in Frankfurt, Strassburg,
+and Wetzlar,&mdash;the ardent lover of a Friedrike of Sesenheim,
+the handsome, joyous youth, is different in our minds
+from the stiff and formal Weimar minister; the youthful Apollo
+different from the Olympic Jupiter. There lies a young development
+between, that we feel and are curious to know. It is similar
+with Schiller. The poet of the 'Robbers' with its motto <i>In
+tyrannos</i>, the fugitive from the military school; and the Jena professor,
+the Weimar court councilor who wrote 'The Homage of
+the Arts,'&mdash;are two different portraits.</p>
+
+<p>But Heine is to our view always the same, always the representative
+of humor with "a laughing tear" in his escutcheon,
+always the poetic anomaly, coquetting with his pain and scoffing
+it away. Young or old, well or ill, we do not know him different.</p>
+
+<p>And yet this poet too had a development, upon which at
+different times different influences worked....</p>
+
+<p>The first epoch in this course of development may be called
+the "youthful"; the 'Travel Pictures' and the lyrics contained
+in it form its brilliant conclusion. This is no storm-and-stress
+period in the way that, as Schiller and Goethe passed through it,
+completed works first issued under its clarifying influence. On
+the contrary, it is characteristic of Heine that we have to thank
+this youthful epoch for his best and most peculiarly national
+poems. The wantonness and the sorrows of this youth, in their
+piquant mixture, created these songs permeated by the breath of
+original talent, whose physiognomy, more than all that follow
+later, bears the mark of the kind and manner peculiar to Heine,
+and which for a long time exercised in our literature through
+a countless host of imitators an almost epidemic effect. But
+these lyric pearls, which in their purity and their crystalline
+polish are a lasting adornment of his poet's crown, and belong to
+the lyric treasures of our national literature, were also gathered
+in his first youthful epoch, when he still dived down into the
+depths of life in the diving-bell of romanticism.</p>
+
+<p>Although Heinrich Heine asserted of himself that he belonged
+to the "first men of the century," since he was born in the
+middle of New Year's night, 1800, more exact investigation has
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 6575]</a></span>
+nevertheless shown that truth is here sacrificed to a witticism.
+Heine is still a child of the eighteenth century, by whose most
+predominant thoughts his work too is influenced, and with whose
+European coryph&aelig;us, Voltaire, he has an undeniable relationship.
+He was born, as Strodtmann proves, on the 13th of December,
+1799, in D&uuml;sseldorf, His father was a plain cloth-merchant; his
+mother, of the family Von Geldern, the daughter of a physician
+of repute. The opinion, however, that Heine was the fruit of a
+Jewish-Christian marriage, is erroneous. The family Von Geldern
+belonged to the orthodox Jewish confession. One of its early
+members, according to family tradition, although he was a Jew,
+had received the patent of nobility from one of the prince electors
+of J&uuml;lich-Kleve-Berg, on account of a service accorded him. As,
+moreover, Schiller's and Goethe's mothers worked upon their sons
+an appreciable educational influence, so was this also the case with
+Heine's mother, who is described as a pupil of Rousseau and an
+adorer of Goethe's elegies, and thus reached far out beyond the
+measure of the bourgeois conditions in which she lived....</p>
+
+<p>That which however worked upon his youthful spirit, upon his
+whole poetical manner, was the French sovereignty in the Rhine-lands
+at the time of his childhood and youth. The Grand Duchy
+of Berg, to which D&uuml;sseldorf belonged, was ruled in the French
+manner; a manner which, apart from the violent conscriptions,
+when compared with the Roman imperial periwig style had great
+advantages, and in particular granted to Jews complete equal
+rights with Christians, since the revolutionary principle of equality
+had outlived the destruction of freedom. Thus the Jews in
+D&uuml;sseldorf in their greater part were French sympathizers, and
+Heine's father too was an ardent adherent of the new r&eacute;gime.
+This as a matter of course could not remain without influence
+upon the son, so much the less as he had French instruction at
+the lyceum. A vein of the lively French blood is unmistakable
+in his works. It drew him later on to Paris, where he made the
+martyr stations of his last years. And of all recent German
+poets, Heinrich Heine is the best known in France, better known
+even than our classic poets; for the French feel this vein of
+related blood....</p>
+
+<p>From his youth springs, too, Heine's enthusiasm for the great
+Napoleon, which however he has never transmitted to the successors
+of the <i>id&eacute;es Napol&eacute;oniennes</i>. The thirteen-year-old pupil
+of the gymnasium saw the Emperor in the year 1811, and then
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 6576]</a></span>
+again in May 1812; and later on in the 'Book Legrand' of the
+'Travel Pictures' he strikes up the following dithyrambic, which,
+as is always the case with Heine where the great C&aelig;sar is concerned,
+tones forth pure and full, with genuine poetic swing,
+without those dissonances in which his inmost feelings often
+flow. "What feelings came over me," he exclaims, "when I
+saw him himself, with my own highly favored eyes, him himself,
+Hosanna, the Emperor! It was in the avenue of the Court
+garden in D&uuml;sseldorf. As I pushed myself through the gaping
+people, I thought of his deeds and his battles, and my heart
+beat the general march&mdash;and nevertheless, I thought at the same
+time of the police regulation that no one under a penalty of five
+thalers should ride through the middle of the avenue. And the
+Emperor rode quietly through the middle of the avenue; no
+policeman opposed him. Behind him, his suite rode proudly on
+snorting horses and loaded with gold and jewels, the trumpets
+sounded, and the people shouted with a thousand voices, 'Long
+live the Emperor!'" To this enthusiasm for Napoleon, Heine
+not long afterward gave a poetic setting in the ballad 'The Two
+Grenadiers.'...</p>
+
+<p>The Napoleonic remembrances of his youth, which retained
+that unfading freshness and enthusiasm that are wont to belong
+to all youthful remembrances, were of vital influence upon Heine's
+later position in literature; they formed a balance over against
+the romantic tendency, and hindered him from being drawn into
+it. Precisely in that epoch when the beautiful patriotism of the
+Wars of Liberation went over into the weaker feeling of the
+time of the restoration, and romanticism, grown over-devout, in
+part abandoned itself to externals, in part became a centre of
+reactionary efforts, Heine let this Napoleonic lightning play on
+the sultry heavens of literature, in the most daring opposition to
+the ruling disposition of the time and a school of poetry from
+which he himself had proceeded; while he declared war upon its
+followers. However greatly he imperiled his reputation as a
+German patriot through these hosannas offered to the hereditary
+enemy, just as little was it to be construed amiss that the remembrance
+of historical achievements, and of those principles of
+the Revolution which even the Napoleonic despotism must represent,
+were a salutary ventilation in the miasmic atmosphere of
+the continually decreasing circle which at that time described
+German literature. In the prose of Heine, which like B&eacute;ranger
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 6577]</a></span>
+glorified C&aelig;sar, slumbered the first germs of the political lyric,
+which led again out of the moonlit magic realm of romanticism
+into the sunny day of history.</p>
+
+<p>A hopeless youthful love for a charming Hamburg maiden
+was the Muse of the Heine lyric, whose escutcheon has for a
+symbol "the laughing tear." With the simplicity of Herodotus
+the poet himself relates the fact, the experience, in the well-known
+poem with the final strophe:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It is an ancient story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But still 'tis ever new:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To whomsoe'er it happens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His heart is broken too."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>We comprehend from biographical facts the inner genesis of
+the Heine lyric. Heine was in the position of Werther, but a
+Werther was for the nineteenth century an anomaly; a lyric of
+this sort in yellow nankeen breeches would have travestied itself.
+The content of the range of thought, the circle of world-shaping
+efforts, had so expanded itself since the French Revolution that
+a complete dissolution into sentimental extravagance had become
+an impossibility. The justification of the sentiment was not to
+be denied; but it must not be regarded as the highest, as the
+life-determining element. It needed a rectification which should
+again rescue the freedom of the spirit. Humor alone could accomplish
+Munchausen's feat, and draw itself by its own hair out of
+the morass. Heine expressed his feelings with genuine warmth;
+he formed them into drawn pictures and visions; but then he
+placed himself on the defensive against them. He is the modern
+Werther, who instead of loading his pistol with a ball, loads
+it with humor. Artistic harmony suffered under this triumph of
+spiritual freedom; but that which appeared in his imitators as
+voluntary quibbling came from Heine of inner necessity. The
+subject of his first songs is the necessary expression of a struggle
+between feeling and spirit, between the often visionary dream life
+of a sentiment and self-consciousness, soaring free out over the
+world, which adjudged absorption in a single feeling as one-sided
+and unjustified. Later on, to be sure, these subjects of youthful
+inspiration became in Heine himself a satiric-humoristic manner,
+which regarded as a model worked much evil in literature. In
+addition to personal necessity through one's own experience, there
+was for a genius such as Heine's also a literary necessity, which
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 6578]</a></span>
+lay in the development of our literature in that epoch. It was
+the Indian Summer of romanticism, whose cobwebs at this time
+flew over the stubble of our poetry. The vigorous onset of the
+lyricists of the Wars of Liberation had again grown lame; people
+reveled in the album sentiments of Tiedge and Mahlmann; the
+spectres of Amadeus Hoffmann and the lovely high-born maidens
+of knight Fouqu&eacute; were regarded then as the noblest creations of
+German fantasy. Less chosen spirits, that is to say, the entire
+great reading public of the German nation, which ever felt toward
+its immortals a certain aversion, refreshed itself with the lukewarm
+water of the poetry of Clauren, from out of which, instead
+of the Venus Anadyomene, appear a Mimili and other maiden
+forms, pretty, but drawn with a stuffed-out plasticism. On the
+stage reigned the "fate tragedies" upon whose lyre the strings
+were wont to break even in the first scene, and whose ghosts
+slipped silently over all the German boards. In a word, spirits
+controlled the poetry of the time more than spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Heine however was a genuine knight of the spirit, and even
+if he conjured up his lyric spectres, he demanded no serious
+belief in them&mdash;they were dissolving pictures of mist; and if
+he followed his overflowing feelings, the mawkish sentiments of
+romanticism occurred to him and disgusted him with the extravagant
+expression of his love pain, and he mocked himself, the
+time, and the literature,&mdash;dissolved the sweet accords in glaring
+dissonances, so that they should not be in tune with the sentimental
+street songs of the poets of the day. In these outer and
+inner reasons lie the justification and the success of the lyric
+poetry of Heine. It designates an act of self-consciousness of
+the German spirit, which courageously lifts itself up out of idle
+love complainings and fantastic dream life, and at the same time
+mocks them both. An original talent like Heine's was needed to
+give to the derided sentiment such a transporting magic, to the
+derision itself such an Attic grace, that the sphinx of his poetry,
+with the beautiful face and the rending claws, always produced
+the impression of a work of art. The signification in literary
+history of these songs of Heine is not to be underestimated.
+They indicate the dissolution of romanticism, and with them
+begins the era of modern German poetry.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by William
+H. Carpenter</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 6579]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="JOHN_GOWER" id="JOHN_GOWER"></a>JOHN GOWER</h2>
+
+<h4>(1325?-1408)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/caps.png" width="90" height="89" alt="S" title="S" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">ince Caxton, the first printer of 'Confessio Amantis' (The
+Confession of a Lover), described Gower as a "squyer borne
+in Walys in the tyme of Kyng Richard the second," there
+has been a diversity of opinion about his birthplace, and he has been
+classed variously with prosperous Gowers until of late, when the
+county assigned to him is Kent. His birth-year is placed approximately
+at 1325. We know nothing of his early life and education.
+It has been guessed that he went to Oxford,
+and afterwards traveled in the troubled
+kingdom of France. Such a course might
+have been followed by a man of his estate.
+He had means, for English property records
+(in this instance the rolls of Chancery, the
+parchment foundation of English society)
+still preserve deeds of his holdings in Kent
+and Essex and elsewhere.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/gower.png" width="170" height="200" alt="John Gower" title="John Gower" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">John Gower</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>His life lay along with that of Chaucer's,
+in the time when Edward III. and his son
+the Black Prince were carrying war into
+France, and the English Parliament were
+taking pay in plain speaking for what they
+granted in supplies, and wresting at the
+same time promises of reform from the royal hand. But Gower and
+Chaucer were not only contemporaries: they were of like pursuit,
+tastes, and residence; they were friends; and when Chaucer under
+Richard II., the grandson and successor of Edward, went to France
+upon the mission of which Froissart speaks, he named John Gower as
+one of his two attorneys while he should be away. Notice of Gower's
+marriage to Agnes Groundolf late in life&mdash;in 1397&mdash;is still preserved.
+Three years after this he became blind,&mdash;it was the year 1400, in
+which Chaucer died,&mdash;and in 1408 he died.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The infirm poet," says Morley, "spent the evening of his life at St. Mary
+Overies [St. Mary-over-the-River], in retirement from all worldly affairs except
+pious and liberal support of the advancing building works in the priory, and
+in the church now known as St. Saviour's [Southwark], to which he bequeathed
+his body. His will, made not long before death, bequeathed his soul to God,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 6580]</a></span>
+his body to be buried in St. Mary Overies. The poet bequeathed also 13<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i>
+to each of the four parish churches of Southwark for ornaments and lights,
+besides 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> for prayers to each of their curates. It is not less characteristic
+that he left also 40<i>s.</i> for prayers to the master of St. Thomas's Hospital,
+and, still for prayers, 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> to each of its priests, 3<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> to each Sister in
+the hospital, twenty pence to each nurse of the infirm there, and to each of
+the infirm twelve pence. There were similar bequests to St. Thomas Elsing
+Spital, a priory and hospital that stood where now stands Sion College. St.
+Thomas Elsing Spital, founded in 1329 by William Elsing, was especially
+commended to the sympathies of the blind old poet, as it consisted of a college
+for a warden, four priests, and two clerks, who had care of one hundred
+old, blind, and poor persons of both sexes, preference being given to blind,
+paralytic, and disabled priests. Like legacies were bequeathed also to Bedlam-without-Bishopsgate,
+and to St. Mary's Hospital, Westminster. Also there
+were bequests of ten shillings to each of the leper-nurses. Two robes (one of
+white silk, the other of blue baudekin,&mdash;a costly stuff with web of gold and
+woof of silk), also a new dish and chalice, and a new missal, were bequeathed
+to the perpetual service of the altar of the chapel of St. John the Baptist, in
+which his body was to be buried. To the prior and convent he left a great
+book, a 'Martyrology,' which had been composed and written for them at his
+expense. To his wife Agnes he left a hundred pounds, three cups, one coverlet,
+two salt-cellars, and a dozen silver spoons; also all his beds and chests,
+with the furnishings of hall, pantry, and kitchen; also a chalice and robe for
+the altar of the chapel of their house; and she was to have for life all rents
+due to him from his manors of Southwell (in Nottingham) and Moulton (in
+Suffolk)."</p></div>
+
+<p>His wife was one of his executors. The will is still preserved at
+Lambeth Palace.</p>
+
+<p>Gower's tomb and monument may also still be seen at St. Saviour's,
+where the description Berthelet gave of them in 1532 is, aside from
+the deadening of the paintings, true:&mdash;"Somewhat after the olde
+ffashion he lyeth ryght sumptuously buryed, with a garland on his
+head, in token that he in his lyfe dayes flouryshed freshely in literature
+and science." The head of his stone effigy lies upon three
+volumes representing Gower's three great works; the hair falls in long
+curls; the robe is closely buttoned to the feet, which rest upon a
+lion, and the neck is encircled with a collar, from which a chain held
+a small swan, the badge of Henry IV. "Besyde on the wall where
+as he lyeth," continues Berthelet, "there be peynted three virgins,
+with crownes on theyr heades; one of the which is written <i>Charitie</i>,
+and she holdeth this devise in her hande:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'En toy qui fitz de Dieu le Pere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sauve soit que gist souz cest piere.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(In thee, who art Son of God the Father,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be he saved who lieth under this stone.)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 6581]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The second is wrytten <i>Mercye</i>, which holdeth in her hande this
+devise:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'O bone Jesu fait ta mercy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al alme dont le corps gist icy.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(O good Jesus, grant thy mercy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the soul whose body lies here.)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"The thyrde of them is wrytten <i>Pity</i>, which holdeth in her hand
+this devise:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Pur ta pite, Jesu regarde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Et met cest alme en sauve garde.'"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">(For thy pity, Jesus, see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And take this soul in thy safe guard.)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The monument was repaired in 1615, 1764, and 1830.</p>
+
+<p>The three works which pillow the head of the effigy indicate
+Gower's 'Speculum Meditantis' (The Looking-Glass of One Meditating),
+which the poet wrote in French; the 'Vox Clamantis' (The Voice
+of One Crying), in Latin; and the 'Confessio Amantis,' in English. It
+should be remembered in noting this mixture of tongues, that in
+Gower's early life the English had no national speech. The court,
+Parliament, nobles, and the courts of law used French; the Church
+held its service in Latin; while the inhabitants of Anglo-Saxon blood
+clung to the language of their fathers, which they had modified by
+additions from the Norman tongue. It was not until 1362 that Parliament
+was opened by a speech in English. "There is," says Dr. Pauli,
+"no better illustration of the singular transition to the English language
+than a short enumeration and description of Gower's writings."
+Of the 'Speculum Meditantis,' a treatise in ten books on the duties
+of married life, no copy is known to exist. The 'Vox Clamantis'
+was the voice of the poet, singing in Latin elegiac of the terrible
+evils which led to the rise of the commons and their march to London
+under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw in 1381. It is doubtless a true
+picture of the excesses and miseries of the day. The remedy, the
+poet says, is in reform&mdash;right living and love of England. Simony
+in the prelates, avarice and drunkenness in the libidinous priests,
+wealth and luxury in the mendicant orders, miscarrying of justice in
+the courts, enrichment of individuals by excessive taxes,&mdash;these are
+the subjects of the voice crying in the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Gower's greatest work, however, is the 'Confessio Amantis.' In
+form it is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a
+priest of Venus. In substance it is a setting-forth, with moralizings
+which are at times touching and elevated, of one hundred and
+twelve different stories, from sources so different as the Bible, Ovid,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 6582]</a></span>
+Josephus, the 'Gesta Romanorum,' Valerius Maximus, Statius, Boccaccio,
+etc. Thirty thousand eight-syllabled rhymed lines make up
+the work. There are different versions. The first was dedicated to
+Richard II., and the second to his successor, Henry of Lancaster.
+Besides these large works, a number of French ballades, and also
+English and Latin short poems, are preserved. "They have real and
+intrinsic merit," says Todd: "they are tender, pathetic, and poetical,
+and place our old poet Gower in a more advantageous point of
+view than that in which he has heretofore been usually seen."</p>
+
+<p>Estimates of Gower's writings are various; but even his most hostile
+judges admit the pertinence of the epithet with which Chaucer
+hails him in his dedication of 'Troilus and Creseide':&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O morall Gower, this book&egrave; I direct<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee and to the philosophicall Strode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To vouchsaf&egrave; there need is to correct<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of your benignities and zeal&egrave;s good."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Then Skelton the laureate, in his long song upon the death of
+Philip Sparrow (which recalls the exquisite gem of Catullus in a like
+threnody), takes occasion to say:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Gower's englyssh&egrave; is olde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of no val&uacute;e is tolde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His matt&eacute;r is worth gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And worthy to be enrold."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And again:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gower that first garnish&egrave;d our English rude."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Old Puttenham also bears this testimony:&mdash;"But of them all [the
+English poets] particularly this is myne opinion, that Chaucer, with
+Gower, Lidgate, and Harding, for their antiquitie ought to have the
+first place."</p>
+
+<p>Taine dismisses him with little more than a fillip, and Lowell,
+while discoursing appreciatively on Chaucer, says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Gower has positively raised tediousness to the precision of science; he has
+made dullness an heirloom for the students of our literary history. As you
+slip to and fro on the frozen levels of his verse, which give no foothold to the
+mind; as your nervous ear awaits the inevitable recurrence of his rhyme, regularly
+pertinacious as the tick of an eight-day clock, and reminding you of
+Wordsworth's</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Once more the ass did lengthen out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hard dry seesaw of his horrible bray,'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 6583]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>you learn to dread, almost to respect, the powers of this indefatigable man.
+He is the undertaker of the fair medi&aelig;val legend, and his style has the hateful
+gloss, the seemingly unnatural length, of a coffin."</p></div>
+
+<p>Yet hear Morley:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"To this day we hear among our living countrymen, as was to be heard
+in Gower's time and long before, the voice passing from man to man, that in
+spite of admixture with the thousand defects incident to human character, sustains
+the keynote of our literature, and speaks from the soul of our history
+the secret of our national success. It is the voice that expresses the persistent
+instinct of the English mind to find out what is unjust among us and undo it,
+to find out duty to be done and do it, as God's bidding.... In his own
+Old English or Anglo-Saxon way he tries to put his soul into his work. Thus
+in the 'Vox Clamantis' we have heard him asking that the soul of his book,
+not its form, be looked to; and speaking the truest English in such sentences
+as that 'the eye is blind and the ear deaf, that convey nothing down to the
+heart's depth; and the heart that does not utter what it knows is as a live coal
+under ashes. If I know little, there may be another whom that little will help....
+But to the man who believes in God, no power is unattainable if he
+but rightly feels his work; he ever has enough, whom God increases.' This is
+the old spirit of C&aelig;dmon and of Bede; in which are laid, while the earth lasts,
+the strong foundations of our literature. It was the strength of such a temper
+in him that made Gower strong. 'God knows,' he says again, 'my
+wish is to be useful; that is the prayer that directs my labor.' And while he
+thus touches the root of his country's philosophy, the form of his prayer&mdash;that
+what he has written may be what he would wish it to be&mdash;is still a
+thoroughly sound definition of good English writing. His prayer is that
+there may be no word of untruth, and that 'each word may answer to the
+thing it speaks of, pleasantly and fitly; that he may flatter in it no one, and
+seek in it no praise above the praise of God.'"</p></div>
+
+<p>The part of Gower's writing here brought before the reader is the
+quaintly told and charming story of Petronella, from 'Liber Primus'
+of the 'Confessio.' It may be evidence that all the malediction upon
+the poet above quoted is not deserved.</p>
+
+<p>The 'Confessio Amantis' has been edited and collated with the
+best manuscripts by Dr. Reinhold Pauli (1857). The 'Vox Clamantis'
+was printed for the first time in 1850, under the editorship of
+H. O. Coxe and for the Roxburghe Club. The 'Balades and Other
+Poems' are also included in the publication of the Roxburghe Club.
+Other sources of information regarding Gower are 'Illustrations of
+the Lives and Writings of Gower and Chaucer' by Henry J. Todd
+(1810); Henry Morley's reviews in 'English Writers'; and various
+short articles.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 6584]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="PETRONELLA" id="PETRONELLA"></a>PETRONELLA</h3>
+
+<h4>From the 'Confessio Amantis'</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A king whilom was yonge and wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which set of his wit great prise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of depe ymaginations<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And straunge interpretations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Problemes and demaund&egrave;s eke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wisedom was to finde and seke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherof he wolde in sondry wise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Opposen hem that weren wise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But none of hem it might&egrave; bere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his word to yive answ&eacute;re;<a name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out taken one, which was a knight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To him was every thing so light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That also sone as he hem herde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king&egrave;s word&egrave;s he answerde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What thing the king him ax&egrave; wolde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof anone the trouth he tolde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king somdele had an envie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought he wolde his witt&egrave;s plie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To set&egrave; some conclusion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which shuld&egrave; be confusion<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto this knight, so that the name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of wisdom the high&egrave; fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tow&aacute;rd him selfe he wold&egrave; winne.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus of all his wit withinne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This king began to studie and muse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What straung&egrave; mat&eacute;r he might use<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The knight&egrave;s witt&egrave;s to confounde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at&egrave; last he hath it founde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for the knight anon he sente,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he shall tell&egrave; what he mente.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon three points stood the mat&eacute;re,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of questions as thou shalt&egrave; here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The first&egrave; point&egrave; of all thre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was this: what thing in his degre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all this world hath ned&egrave; lest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet men helpe it allthermest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The second is: what moste is worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of cost&aacute;ge is lest put forth.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 6585]</a></span><span class="i1">The thrid is: which is of most cost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lest is worth, and goth to lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The king these thre demaund&egrave;s axeth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the knight this law he taxeth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he shall gone, and comen ayein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thridd&egrave; weke, and tell him pleine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To every point, what it amounteth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if so be that he miscounteth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make in his answ&eacute;re a faile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There shall none other thinge availe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king saith, but he shall be dede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lese his good&egrave;s and his hede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This knight was sory of this thinge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wolde excuse him to the kinge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he ne wolde him nought forbere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus the knight of his answ&eacute;re<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goth home to take avisement.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But after his entendement<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more he cast his wit about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more he stant thereof in doubte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho<a name="FNanchor_2_8" id="FNanchor_2_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_8" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> wist he well the king&egrave;s herte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he the deth ne shulde asterte,<a name="FNanchor_3_9" id="FNanchor_3_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_9" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And suche a sorroe to him hath take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gladship he hath all forsake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He thought first upon his life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after that upon his wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his children eke also,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which&egrave; he had doughteres two.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The yongest of hem had of age<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fourtene yere, and of visage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was right faire, and of stature<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lich to an hevenlich figure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of man&eacute;r and goodly speche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though men wolde all land&egrave;s seche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shulden nought have founde her like.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sigh<a name="FNanchor_4_10" id="FNanchor_4_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_10" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> her fader sorroe and sike,<a name="FNanchor_5_11" id="FNanchor_5_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_11" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wist nought the caus&egrave; why.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So cam she to him prively,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that was wher he made his mone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within a gardin all him one.<a name="FNanchor_6_12" id="FNanchor_6_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_12" class="fnanchor">[6]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her knees she gan down falle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With humble herte, and to him calle<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 6586]</a></span><span class="i0">And said&egrave;:&mdash;"O good fader dere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why mak&egrave; ye thus hevy chere,<a name="FNanchor_7_13" id="FNanchor_7_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_13" class="fnanchor">[7]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I wot nothinge how it is?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And well ye know&egrave;, fader, this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What &aacute;dventur&egrave; that you felle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye might it saufly to me telle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I have oft&egrave; herd you saide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ye such truste have on me laide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to my suster ne to my brother<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all this worlde ne to none other<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye durst&egrave; telle a privete<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So well, my fader, as to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forthy,<a name="FNanchor_8_14" id="FNanchor_8_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_14" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> my fader, I you praie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne casteth nought that hert<a name="FNanchor_9_15" id="FNanchor_9_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_15" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> awaie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I am she that wold&egrave; kepe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your honour." And with that to wepe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eye may nought be forbore;<a name="FNanchor_10_16" id="FNanchor_10_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_16" class="fnanchor">[10]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She wisheth for to ben unbore,<a name="FNanchor_11_17" id="FNanchor_11_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_17" class="fnanchor">[11]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Er<a name="FNanchor_12_18" id="FNanchor_12_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_18" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> that her fader so mistriste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tellen her of that he wiste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever among mercy<a name="FNanchor_13_19" id="FNanchor_13_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_19" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> she cride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he ne shulde his counseil hide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her, that so wolde him good<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And was so nigh flesshe and blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that with weping, at&egrave; laste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His chere upon his childe he caste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sorroefully to that she praide<a name="FNanchor_14_20" id="FNanchor_14_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_20" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He tolde his tale, and thus he saide:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The sorroe, doughter, which I make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is nought all only for my sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for the bothe and for you alle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For suche a chaunce is me befalle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I shall er this thridd&egrave; day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lese all that ever I les&egrave; may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My life and all my good therto.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore it is I sorroe so."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"What is the cause, alas," quod she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My fader, that ye shulden be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dede and destruied in suche a wise?"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 6587]</a></span><span class="i1">And he began the points devise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which as the king tolde him by mouthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said her pleinly, that he couthe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answeren to no point of this.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she, that hereth howe it is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her counseil yaf<a name="FNanchor_15_21" id="FNanchor_15_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_21" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> and saide tho<a name="FNanchor_16_22" id="FNanchor_16_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_22" class="fnanchor">[16]</a>:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"My fader, sithen it is so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ye can se none other weie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that ye must ned&egrave;s deie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wolde pray you of o<a name="FNanchor_17_23" id="FNanchor_17_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_23" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> thinge,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me go with you to the kinge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ye shall make him understonde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How ye, my witt&egrave;s for to fonde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have laid your answere upon me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And telleth him in such degre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon my worde ye wol abide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To life or deth, what so betide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For yet perchaunce I may purchace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With some good word the king&egrave;s grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your life and eke your good to save.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For oft&egrave; shall a woman have<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thing, whiche a man may nought areche."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fader herd his doughters speche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought there was no reson in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sigh his own&egrave; life to winne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He couth&egrave; done himself no cure.<a name="FNanchor_18_24" id="FNanchor_18_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_24" class="fnanchor">[18]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So better him thought in &agrave;venture<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To put his life and all his good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than in the manner as it stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His life incertein for to lese.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus thenkend he gan to chese<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do the counseil of this maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And toke the purpose which she said.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The day was comen, and forth they gone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the court they come anone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where as the kinge in his jugement<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was set and hath this knight assent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arrai&egrave;d in her best&egrave; wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This maiden with her word&egrave;s wise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her fader ledd&egrave; by the honde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the place,<a name="FNanchor_19_25" id="FNanchor_19_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_25" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> where he fonde<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 6588]</a></span><span class="i0">The king with other which he wolde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the king knelend he tolde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he enform&egrave;d was to-fore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And praith the king, that he therfore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His doughters word&egrave;s wold&egrave; take;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And saith, that he woll undertake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her word&egrave;s for to stonde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho was ther great merveile on honde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he, which was so wise a knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His life upon so yonge a wight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besett&egrave; wolde in jeopartie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many it helden for folie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But at the last&egrave;, netheles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king commaundeth ben in pees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to this maide he cast his chere,<a name="FNanchor_20_26" id="FNanchor_20_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_26" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And saide he wolde her tal&egrave; here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bad her speke; and she began:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"My leg&egrave; lord, so as I can,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quod she, "the point&egrave;s which I herde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shull of reson ben answerde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The first I understonde is this:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What thinge of all the worlde it is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My leg&egrave; lord, this wolde I rede:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The erthe it is, which evermo<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With mann&egrave;s labour is bego<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As well in winter as in maie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mann&egrave;s honde doth what he may<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To helpe it forth and make it riche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And forthy men it delve and diche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even it with strength of plough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wher it hath of him self inough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that his nede is at&egrave; leste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For every man, bird&egrave;, and beste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of flour and gras and roote and rinde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every thing by way of kinde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall sterve, and erthe it shall become<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As it was out of erth&egrave; nome,<a name="FNanchor_21_27" id="FNanchor_21_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_27" class="fnanchor">[21]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It shall be therthe torne ayein.<a name="FNanchor_22_28" id="FNanchor_22_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_28" class="fnanchor">[22]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus I may by reson sein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That erth&egrave; is the most nedeles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And most men helpe it netheles;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 6589]</a></span><span class="i0">So that, my lord, touchend of this<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have answerde how that it is.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That other point I understood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which most is worth, and most is good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And costeth lest a man to kepe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lorde, if ye woll tak&egrave; kepe,<a name="FNanchor_23_29" id="FNanchor_23_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_29" class="fnanchor">[23]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I say it is humilit&egrave;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through which&egrave; the high Trinit&egrave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As for desert&egrave; of pure love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto Mari&egrave; from above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that he knewe her humble entente,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His own&egrave; Sone adown he sente<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above all other, and her he chese<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that vertu, which bodeth pees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that I may by reson calle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Humilit&egrave; most worthe of alle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lest it costeth to mainteine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all the worlde, as it is seine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For who that hath humblesse on honde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He bringeth no werres into londe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he desireth for the best<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To setten every man in reste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus with your high&egrave; reverence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me thenketh that this evidence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As to this point is suffisaunt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And touchend of the remenaunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is the thridde of your axinges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What lest is worth of all&egrave; thinges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And costeth most, I telle it pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which may nought in the heven abide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Lucifer with hem that felle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bar prid&egrave; with him into helle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was pride of to grete cost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whan he for pride hath heven lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after that in Paradise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adam for prid&egrave; lost his prise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In middel-erth. And eke also<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pride is the cause of all&egrave; wo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all the world ne may suffice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To staunche of prid&egrave; the reprise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pride is the heved<a name="FNanchor_24_30" id="FNanchor_24_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_30" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> of all sinne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which wasteth all and may nought winne;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 6590]</a></span><span class="i0">Pride is of every mis<a name="FNanchor_25_31" id="FNanchor_25_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_31" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> the pricke<a name="FNanchor_26_32" id="FNanchor_26_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_32" class="fnanchor">[26]</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pride is the worst&egrave; of all wicke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And costeth most and lest is worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In plac&egrave; where he hath his forth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus have I said that I woll say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of min answ&eacute;re, and to you pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My leg&egrave; lorde, of your office,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ye such grace and suche justice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ordeign&egrave; for my fader here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That after this, whan men it here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world therof may spek&egrave; good."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The king, which reson understood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hath all herde how she hath said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was inly glad, and so well paid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all his wrath is over go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he began to lok&egrave; tho<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon this maiden in the face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which he found so mochel grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all his prise on her he laide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In audience, and thus he saide:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"My fair&egrave; maid&egrave;, well the<a name="FNanchor_27_33" id="FNanchor_27_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_33" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of thin answ&eacute;re, and eke of the<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me liketh well, and as thou wilte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foryiv&egrave; be thy faders gilte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if thou were of such lignage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou to me were of parage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that thy fader were a pere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he is now a bachelere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So siker as I have a life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou sholdest thann&egrave; be my wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But this I sai&egrave; netheles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I woll shap&egrave; thin encrese;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What world&egrave;s good that thou wolt crave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are of my yift, and thou shalt have."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And she the king with word&egrave;s wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knelende, thanketh in this wise:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"My leg&egrave; lord, god mot you quite.<a name="FNanchor_28_34" id="FNanchor_28_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_34" class="fnanchor">[28]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My fader here hath but a lite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of warison,<a name="FNanchor_29_35" id="FNanchor_29_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_35" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> and that he wende<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had all be<a name="FNanchor_30_36" id="FNanchor_30_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_36" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> lost, but now amende<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He may well through you noble grace."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 6591]</a></span><span class="i1">With that the king right in his place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon forth in that fresh&egrave; hete<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An erldome, which than of eschete<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was lat&egrave; falle into his honde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto this knight with rent and londe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath yove, and with his chartre sesed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus was all the noise appesed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This maiden, which sate on her knees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-fore the king&egrave;s charitees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commendeth and saith evermore:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"My leg&egrave; lord, right now to-fore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye saide, and it is of recorde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That if my fader were a lorde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pere unto these other grete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye wolden for nought ell&egrave;s lette,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I ne shold&egrave; be your wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus wote every worthy life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A king&egrave;s worde mot nede be holde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forthy my lord, if that ye wolde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So great a charit&egrave; fulfille,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God wot&egrave; it were well my wille.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he which was a bachelere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My fader, is now made a pere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So whan as ever that I cam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An erl&egrave;s doughter nowe I am."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This yong&egrave; king, which peis&egrave;d<a name="FNanchor_31_37" id="FNanchor_31_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_37" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her beaut&egrave; and her wit withall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he, which was with lov&egrave; hente,<a name="FNanchor_32_38" id="FNanchor_32_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_38" class="fnanchor">[32]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anone therto gaf his assente.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He might nought the place asterte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That she nis lady of his herte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that he toke her to his wife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hold&egrave;, while that he hath life.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus the king tow&aacute;rd his knight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Accordeth him, as it is right.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over this good is to wite<a name="FNanchor_33_39" id="FNanchor_33_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_39" class="fnanchor">[33]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the cronique as it is write,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This noble kinge, of whom I tolde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Spain&egrave; by tho dai&egrave;s olde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The kingdom had in governaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the boke maketh remembraunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alphons&egrave; was his propre name.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 6592]</a></span><span class="i0">The knight also, if I shall name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Danz Petro hight, and as men telle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His doughter wis&egrave; Petronelle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was clep&egrave;d, which was full of grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that was sene in thilk&egrave; place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where she her fader out of tene<a name="FNanchor_34_40" id="FNanchor_34_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_40" class="fnanchor">[34]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath brought and made her selfe a quene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that she hath so well desclosed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The points whereof she was opposed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> No one could solve his puzzles.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_8" id="Footnote_2_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_8"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> For.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_9" id="Footnote_3_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_9"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Escape.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_10" id="Footnote_4_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_10"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Saw.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_11" id="Footnote_5_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_11"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Sigh.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_12" id="Footnote_6_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_12"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Own.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_13" id="Footnote_7_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_13"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Care.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_14" id="Footnote_8_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_14"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Therefore.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_15" id="Footnote_9_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_15"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Heart.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_16" id="Footnote_10_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_16"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Cannot endure it.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_17" id="Footnote_11_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_17"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Unborn.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_18" id="Footnote_12_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_18"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Ere.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_19" id="Footnote_13_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_19"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> In the midst of pity (for him).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_20" id="Footnote_14_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_20"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> In answer to her prayer.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_21" id="Footnote_15_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_21"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Gave.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_22" id="Footnote_16_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_22"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Thus.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_23" id="Footnote_17_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_23"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> One.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_24" id="Footnote_18_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_24"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Saw that he could do nothing to save his own life.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_25" id="Footnote_19_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_25"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Palace.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_26" id="Footnote_20_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_26"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Turned his attention.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_27" id="Footnote_21_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_27"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Taken.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_28" id="Footnote_22_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_28"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Shall turn thereto again.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_29" id="Footnote_23_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_29"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Heed.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_30" id="Footnote_24_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_30"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Head.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_31" id="Footnote_25_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_31"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Mischief.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_32" id="Footnote_26_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_32"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Core.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_33" id="Footnote_27_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_33"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Thee.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_34" id="Footnote_28_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_34"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> May God requite you.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_35" id="Footnote_29_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_35"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Has had but little reward.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_36" id="Footnote_30_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_36"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Been.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_37" id="Footnote_31_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_37"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Poised&mdash;weighed.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_38" id="Footnote_32_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_38"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Seized.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_39" id="Footnote_33_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_39"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Know.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_40" id="Footnote_34_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_40"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Destruction.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 6593]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GRANT" id="GRANT"></a>
+<span class="caption">ULYSSES S. GRANT.</span>
+<img src="images/grant.jpg" width="100%" alt="ULYSSES S. GRANT." title="ULYSSES S. GRANT." />
+</div>
+
+
+<h2><a name="ULYSSES_S_GRANT" id="ULYSSES_S_GRANT"></a>ULYSSES S. GRANT</h2>
+
+<h4>(1822-1885)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY HAMLIN GARLAND</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capu.png" width="90" height="91" alt="U" title="U" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">lysses Grant was born on the 27th of April, 1822, in a small
+two-room cabin situated in Point Pleasant, a village in
+southern Ohio, about forty miles above Cincinnati. His
+father, Jesse R. Grant, was a powerful, alert, and resolute man, ready
+of speech and of fair education for the time. His family came from
+Connecticut, and was of the earliest settlers in New England. Hannah
+Simpson, his wife, was of strong American stock also. The
+Simpsons had been residents, for several generations, of southeastern
+Pennsylvania. The Grants and the Simpsons had been redoubtable
+warriors in the early wars of the republic. Hannah Simpson was a
+calm, equable, self-contained young woman, as reticent and forbearing
+as her husband was disputatious and impetuous.</p>
+
+<p>Their first child was named Hiram Ulysses Grant. Before the
+child was two years of age, Jesse Grant, who was superintending a
+tannery in Point Pleasant, removed to Georgetown, Brown County,
+Ohio, and set up in business for himself. Georgetown was a village
+in the deep woods, and in and about this village Ulysses Grant grew
+to be a sturdy, self-reliant boy. He loved horses, and became a remarkable
+rider and teamster at a very early age. He was not notable
+as a scholar, but it was soon apparent that he had inherited the self-poise,
+the reticence, and the modest demeanor of his mother. He
+took part in the games and sports of the boys, but displayed no military
+traits whatever. At the age of seventeen he was a fair scholar
+for his opportunities, and his ambitious father procured for him an
+appointment to the Military Academy at West Point. He reported at
+the adjutant's desk in June 1839, where he found his name on the
+register "Ulysses S. Grant" through a mistake of his Congressman,
+Thomas L. Hamer. Meanwhile, to escape ridicule on the initials of
+his name, which spelled "H.U.G." he had transposed his name to
+Ulysses H. Grant, and at his request the adjutant changed the S to
+an H; but the name on record in Washington was Ulysses S., and
+so he remained "U. S. Grant" to the government and U. H. Grant
+to his friends and relatives.</p>
+
+<p>His record at West Point was a good one in mathematics and fair
+in most of his studies. He graduated at about the middle of his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 6594]</a></span>
+class, which numbered thirty-nine. He was much beloved and respected
+as an upright, honorable, and loyal young fellow. At the
+time of his graduation he was president of the only literary society
+of the academy; W. S. Hancock was its secretary.</p>
+
+<p>He remained markedly unmilitary throughout his course, and was
+remembered mainly as a good comrade, a youth of sound judgment,
+and the finest horseman in the academy. He asked to be assigned
+to cavalry duty, but was brevetted second lieutenant of the 4th
+Infantry, and ordered to Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis. Here
+he remained till the spring of 1844, when his regiment was ordered
+to a point on the southwestern frontier, near the present town of
+Natchitoches, Louisiana. Here he remained till May 1845, when the
+Mexican War opened, and for the next three years he served with
+his regiment in every battle except Buena Vista. He was twice
+promoted for gallant conduct, and demonstrated his great coolness,
+resource, and bravery in the hottest fire. He was regimental
+quartermaster much of the time, and might honorably have kept
+out of battle, but he contrived to be in the forefront with his command.</p>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1848 he married Miss Julia Dent of St. Louis,
+and as first lieutenant and regimental quartermaster, with a brevet
+of captain, he served at Sackett's Harbor and Detroit alternately till
+June 1852, when he was ordered to the coast. This was a genuine
+hardship, for he was unable to take his wife and child with him;
+but he concluded to remain in the army, and went with his command,
+sailing from New York and passing by the way of the Isthmus.
+On the way across the Isthmus the regiment encountered
+cholera, and all Grant's coolness, resource, and bravery were required
+to get his charge safely across. "He seemed never to think of himself,
+and appeared to be a man of iron," his companions said.</p>
+
+<p>He was regimental quartermaster at Fort Vancouver, near Portland,
+Oregon, for one year. In 1853 he was promoted to a captaincy
+and ordered to Fort Humboldt, near Eureka in California. In 1854,
+becoming disheartened by the never-ending vista of barrack life,
+and despairing of being able to have his wife and children with him,
+he sent in his resignation, to take effect July 31st, 1854. He had lost
+money by unfortunate business ventures, and so returned forlorn and
+penniless to New York. Thence he made his way to St. Louis to
+his wife and children, and began the world again as a farmer, without
+a house or tools or horses.</p>
+
+<p>His father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Dent, who lived about ten miles
+out of the city, set aside some sixty or eighty acres of land for his
+use, and thereon he built with his own hands a log cabin, which he
+called "Hardscrabble." For nearly four years he lived the life of a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 6595]</a></span>
+farmer. He plowed, hoed, cleared the land, hauled wood and props
+to the mines, and endured all the hardships and privations of a small
+farmer. In 1858 his health gave way, and he moved to St. Louis in
+the attempt to get into some less taxing occupation. He tried for
+the position of county engineer, and failed. He went into the real
+estate business with a friend, and failed in that. He secured a place
+in the customs office, but the collector died and he was thrown out
+of employment.</p>
+
+<p>In the spring of 1860, despairing of getting a foothold in St. Louis,
+he removed to Galena, Illinois, where his father had established a
+leather store, a branch of his tannery in Covington, Kentucky. Here
+he came in touch again with his two brothers, Simpson and Orvil
+Grant. He became a clerk at a salary of six hundred dollars per
+annum. At this time he was a quiet man of middle age, and his
+manner and mode of life attracted little attention till in 1861, when
+Sumter was fired upon and Lincoln called for volunteers. Galena at
+once held a war meeting to raise a company. Captain Grant, because
+of his military experience, was made president of the meeting, and
+afterward was offered the captaincy of the company, which he refused,
+saying, "I have been a captain in the regular army. I am
+fitted to command a regiment."</p>
+
+<p>He wrote at once a patriotic letter to his father-in-law, wherein
+he said, "I foresee the doom of slavery." He accompanied the company
+to Springfield, where his military experience was needed.
+Governor Richard Yates gave him work in the adjutant's office,
+then made him drill-master at Camp Yates; and as his efficiency
+became apparent he was appointed governor's aide, with rank of
+colonel. He mustered in several regiments, among them the 7th
+Congressional regiment at Mattoon. He made such an impression on
+this regiment that they named their camp in his honor, and about
+the middle of June sent a delegation of officers to ask that he be
+made colonel. Governor Yates reluctantly appointed him, and at the
+request of General John C. Fr&eacute;mont, the commander of the Department
+of the West, Grant's regiment (known as the 21st Illinois Volunteers)
+was ordered to Missouri. Colonel Grant marched his men
+overland, being the first commander of the State to decline railway
+transportation. His efficiency soon appeared, and he was given the
+command of all the troops in and about Mexico, Missouri. At this
+point he received a dispatch from E. B. Washburne, Congressman for
+his district, that President Lincoln had made him brigadier-general.
+He was put in command at Ironton, Missouri, and was proceeding
+against Colonel Hardee, when he was relieved from command by
+B. M. Prentiss and ordered to Jefferson City, Missouri. He again
+brought order out of chaos, and was ready for a campaign, when he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 6596]</a></span>
+was again relieved, and by suggestion of President Lincoln placed
+in command of a district with headquarters at Cairo, Illinois.</p>
+
+<p>This was his first adequate command, and with clear and orderly
+activity he organized his command of nearly ten thousand men. On
+the 6th of September, learning that the Confederates were advancing
+on Paducah, he took the city without firing a gun, and issued an
+address to the people of Kentucky which led Lincoln to say, "The
+man who can write like that is fitted to command in the West."
+Early in November, in obedience to a command from Fr&eacute;mont, he
+fought the battle of Belmont, thus preventing General Polk from
+reinforcing Price in Missouri. This was neither a victory nor a
+defeat, as the purpose was not to hold Belmont.</p>
+
+<p>In February 1862, with an army of twenty thousand men and
+accompanied by Commander Foote's flotilla, he took Fort Henry and
+marched on Fort Donelson. On the 16th of the same month he had
+invested Donelson and had beaten the enemy within their works.
+General Simon Buckner, his old classmate and comrade, was in command.
+He wrote to Grant, asking for commissioners to agree upon
+terms. Grant replied: "<i>No terms except an unconditional and immediate
+surrender can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works.</i>"
+Buckner surrendered, and Grant's sturdy words flamed over the land,
+making him "Unconditional Surrender Grant." The whole nation
+thrilled with the surprise and joy of this capture, and the obscure
+brigadier-general became the hero of the day. He was made major-general,
+and given the command of the District of Western Tennessee.</p>
+
+<p>On the 6th and 7th of April he fought the terrible battle of
+Shiloh, and won it, though with great loss, owing to the failure of
+part of his reinforcements to arrive. Immediately after this battle,
+General H. W. Halleck, who had relieved General Fr&eacute;mont as commander
+in the West, took command in person, and by a clever military
+device deprived Grant of all command; and for six weeks the
+army timidly advanced on Corinth. Corinth was evacuated by the
+enemy before Halleck dared to attack, and Grant had no hand in
+any important command until late in the year.</p>
+
+<p>Halleck went to Washington in July, leaving Grant again in command;
+but his forces were so depleted that he could do little but
+defend his lines and stores. In January 1863 he began to assemble
+his troops to attack Vicksburg, but high water kept him inactive till
+the following April. His plan, then fully developed, was to run the
+battery with gunboats and transports, march his troops across the
+peninsula before the city, and flank the enemy from below. This
+superbly audacious plan involved cutting loose from his base of supplies
+and all communications. He was obliged to whip two armies in
+detail,&mdash;Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi, and Pemberton in command
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 6597]</a></span>
+at Vicksburg. This marvelous campaign was executed to the letter,
+and on the third day of July, Pemberton surrendered the largest body
+of troops ever captured on this continent up to that time, and Grant
+became the "man of destiny" of the army. All criticism was silenced.
+The world's markets rose and fell with his daily doings. Lincoln
+wrote him a letter of congratulation. The question of making "the
+prop-hauler of the Gravois" general-in-chief of all the armies of the
+United States was raised, and all the nation turned to him as the
+savior of the republic.</p>
+
+<p>He was made commander of all the armies of the Mississippi, and
+proceeded to Chattanooga to rescue Rosecrans and his beleaguered
+army. In a series of swift and dramatic battles he captured Lookout
+Mountain and Missionary Ridge. Wherever he went, victory seemed
+to follow. His calm demeanor never changed. He was bent on
+"whipping out the Rebellion." He was seen to be a warrior of a
+new sort. He was never malignant, or cruel, or ungenerous to his
+enemies; but he fought battles to win them, and the country now
+clamored for him to lead the armies of the Potomac against Lee, the
+great Southern general against whom no Northern general seemed
+able to prevail.</p>
+
+<p>Early in March of 1864, Hon. E. B. Washburne introduced into
+Congress a bill reviving the grade of Lieutenant-General. It was
+passed by both houses with some discussion, and Lincoln conferred
+the title and all it implied upon Grant. He called him to Washington,
+and placed the whole conduct of the war in his hands. "I don't
+want to know your plans," he said. Grant became absolutely chief
+in command, and set forth at once to direct the Army of the Potomac
+in person, and to encompass Lee as he had captured the armies
+of Buckner and Pemberton. His aim was not to whip Lee, but to
+destroy his army and end the war. He began an enormous encircling
+movement which never for one moment relaxed. The Army of the
+Potomac retreated no more. It had a commander who never knew
+when he was beaten.</p>
+
+<p>He fought one day in the Wilderness, sustaining enormous losses;
+but when the world expected retreat, he ordered an advance. He
+fought another day, and on the third day ordered an advance. Lincoln
+said, "At last I have a general." Grant never rested. After
+every battle he advanced, inexorably closing around Lee. It took
+him a year, but in the end he won. He captured Lee's army, and
+ended the war on the 9th of April, 1865. His terms with the captured
+general of the Southern forces were so chivalrous and generous
+that it gained for him the respect and even admiration of the Southern
+people. They could not forget that he was conqueror, but they
+acknowledged his greatness of heart. He had no petty revenges.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 6598]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Nothing in human history exceeds the contrasts in the life of
+Ulysses Grant. When Lee surrendered to him, he controlled a battle
+line from the Potomac to the Rio Grande, composed of a million
+men. His lightest command had almost inconceivable power; and
+yet he was the same man who had hauled wood in St. Louis and sold
+awls and shoe-pegs in Galena,&mdash;he had been developed by opportunity.
+Personally he remained simple to the point of inconspicuousness.
+His rusty blouse, his worn hat, his dusty boots, his low and
+modest voice, gave no indication of his exalted position and his enormous
+power. At the grand review of the armies in Washington in
+May, he sat with musing eyes while the victorious legions passed
+him, so unobtrusive in the throng that his troops could hardly distinguish
+his form and face; and when he returned to Galena, his old
+home, he carried no visible sign of the power and glory to which he
+had won his way step by step, by sheer power of doing things so
+well that other and greater duties were intrusted to his keeping.</p>
+
+<p>He presented a new type of soldier to the world. He was never
+vengeful, never angry in battle. When others swore and uttered
+ferocious cries, Grant remained master of himself and every faculty,
+uttering no oaths, giving his commands in full, clear, simple, dignified
+phrases. He hated conflict. He cared nothing for the pomp and
+circumstance of war; it was not glorious to him; and when it was
+all over he said, "I never want to see a soldier's uniform again."</p>
+
+<p>He was the chief citizen of the republic at the close of the war,
+and when Lincoln was assassinated he was the mainstay of the republic.
+Every eye was turned upon him, and his calmness was most
+salutary upon the nation. He became inevitably a candidate for
+President, and was elected with great enthusiasm in 1868. In 1872
+he was re-elected, and during his two terms his one great purpose
+was to reconstruct the nation. He did all that he could to heal the
+scars of war. He stood between the malignants of the North and the
+helpless people of the South, always patient and sympathetic. His
+administrations ran in turbulent times, and corruption was abroad in
+official circles, but there is no evidence that he was touched by it.
+His administration was attacked; he was acquitted.</p>
+
+<p>In 1878, two years after his second term had ended, he went on a
+trip around the world, visiting all the great courts and kings of the
+leading nations. He received the most extraordinary honors ever
+tendered to one human being by his fellows, but he returned to
+Galena and to his boyhood home, the same good neighbor, just as
+democratic in his intercourse as ever. He never forgot a face, whether
+of the man who shod his horses or of the man who nominated him
+for President, though he looked upon more people than any other
+man in the history of the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 6599]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In 1880 he mistakenly became a candidate for a third term, and
+was defeated. Shortly after this he moved to New York City, and
+became a nominal partner in the firm of Grant &amp; Ward. His name
+was used in the business; he had little connection with it, for he was
+growing old and failing in health.</p>
+
+<p>In May 1884, through the rascality of Ferdinand Ward, the firm
+failed, and General Grant lost every dollar he owned. Just before the
+crash, in the attempt to save the firm, he went to a wealthy friend
+and borrowed a large sum of money. After the failure the grim old
+commander turned over to his creditor every trophy, every present
+which had been given him by his foreign friends, even the jeweled
+favors of kings and queens and the swords presented to him by his
+fellow-citizens and by his soldiers; he reserved nothing. He became
+so poor that his pew rent became a burden, and the question of
+earning a living came to him with added force, for he was old and
+lame, and attacked by cancer of the tongue.</p>
+
+<p>Now came the most heroic year of his life. Suffering almost
+ceaseless pain, with the death shadow on him, he sat down to write
+his autobiography for the benefit of his wife. He complained not at
+all, and allowed nothing to stand in the way of his work. He wrote
+on steadily, up to the very day of his death, long after the power of
+speech was gone, revising his proofs, correcting his judgments of
+commanders as new evidence arose, and in the end producing a book
+which was a marvel of simple sincerity and modesty of statement,
+and of transparent clarity of style. It took rank at once as one of
+the great martial biographies of the world. It redeemed his name
+and gave his wife a competency. It was a greater deed than the
+taking of Vicksburg.</p>
+
+<p>In this final illness his thoughts dwelt much upon the differences
+between the North and the South. From Mt. McGregor, where he
+was taken in June 1885 to escape the heat of the city, he sent forth
+repeated messages of good-will to the South. In this hour the two
+mighty purposes of his life grew clearer in men's minds. He had
+put down the Rebellion, and from the moment of Lee's surrender
+had set himself the task of reuniting the severed nation. "Let us have
+peace," he said; and the saying had all the effect of a benediction.</p>
+
+<p>He died on July 23rd, 1885, at the age of sixty-three; and at his
+grave the North and the South stood side by side in friendship, and
+the great captains of opposing armies walked shoulder to shoulder,
+bearing his body to its final rest on the bank of the Hudson River.
+The world knew his faults, his mistakes, and his weaknesses; but
+they were all forgotten in the memory of his great deeds as a warrior,
+and of his gentleness, modesty, candor, and purity as a man.
+Since then it becomes increasingly more evident that he is to take
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 6600]</a></span>
+his place as one of three or four figures of the first class in our
+national history. He was a man of action, and his deeds were of the
+kind which mark epochs in history.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 487px;">
+<img src="images/sign376.png" width="487" height="100" alt="Hamlin Garland" title="Hamlin Garland" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="EARLY_LIFE" id="EARLY_LIFE"></a>EARLY LIFE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant</h4>
+
+<p>In June 1821 my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah
+Simpson. I was born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point
+Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we
+moved to Georgetown, the county seat of Brown, the adjoining
+county east. This place remained my home until at the age of
+seventeen, in 1839, I went to West Point.</p>
+
+<p>The schools at the time of which I write were very indifferent.
+There were no free schools, and none in which the scholars
+were classified. They were all supported by subscription, and a
+single teacher&mdash;who was often a man or a woman incapable of
+teaching much, even if they imparted all they knew&mdash;would
+have thirty or forty scholars, male and female, from the infant
+learning the A B C's up to the young lady of eighteen and the
+boy of twenty, studying the highest branches taught&mdash;the three
+R's, "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic." I never saw an algebra
+or other mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in
+Georgetown, until after I was appointed to West Point. I then
+bought a work on algebra, in Cincinnati; but having no teacher,
+it was Greek to me.</p>
+
+<p>My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five
+or six until seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the
+village, except during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The
+former period was spent in Maysville, Kentucky, attending the
+school of Richardson and Rand; the latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a
+private school. I was not studious in habit, and probably did
+not make progress enough to compensate for the outlay for board
+and tuition. At all events, both winters were spent in going
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 6601]</a></span>
+over the same old arithmetic which I knew every word of before,
+and repeating, "A noun is the name of a thing," which I had
+also heard my Georgetown teachers repeat until I had come to
+believe it&mdash;but I cast no reflections upon my old teacher Richardson.
+He turned out bright scholars from his school, many of
+whom have filled conspicuous places in the service of their States.
+Two of my contemporaries there&mdash;who I believe never attended
+any other institution of learning&mdash;have held seats in Congress,
+and one, if not both, other high offices; these are Wadsworth
+and Brewster.</p>
+
+<p>My father was from my earliest recollection in comfortable
+circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and
+the community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of
+facilities for acquiring an education, his greatest desire in maturer
+years was for the education of his children. Consequently,
+as stated before, I never missed a quarter from school, from the
+time I was old enough to attend till the time of leaving home.
+This did not exempt me from labor. In my early days every
+one labored more or less, in the region where my youth was
+spent, and more in proportion to their private means. It was
+only the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried
+on the manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself,
+he owned and tilled considerable land. I detested the trade, preferring
+almost any other labor; but I was fond of agriculture,
+and of all employment in which horses were used. We had,
+among other lands, fifty acres of forest within a mile of the village.
+In the fall of the year, choppers were employed to cut
+enough wood to last a twelvemonth. When I was seven or eight
+years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the house
+and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that
+time; but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and some
+one at the house unload. When about eleven years old, I was
+strong enough to hold a plow. From that age until seventeen
+I did all the work done with horses, such as breaking up the
+land, furrowing, plowing corn and potatoes, bringing in the crops
+when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or
+three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc.,
+while still attending school. For this I was compensated by the
+fact that there was never any scolding or punishing by my parents;
+no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going
+to the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 6602]</a></span>
+visiting my grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles
+off, skating on the ice in winter, or taking a horse and sleigh
+when there was snow on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five
+miles away, several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky,&mdash;often,&mdash;and
+once Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big
+one for a boy of that day. I had also gone once with a two-horse
+carriage to Chillicothe, about seventy miles, with a neighbor's
+family who were removing to Toledo, Ohio, and returned
+alone; and had gone once in like manner to Flat Rock, Kentucky,
+about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I was
+fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr.
+Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours
+in Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse which I rather
+coveted; and proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him
+for one of the two I was driving. Payne hesitated to trade with
+a boy, but asking his brother about it, the latter told him that it
+would be all right; that I was allowed to do as I pleased with
+the horses. I was seventy miles from home, with a carriage to
+take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know that his horse
+had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched to a farm
+wagon, and we would soon see whether he would work. It was
+soon evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but
+he showed no viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I
+could manage him. A trade was at once struck, I receiving ten
+dollars difference.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, Mr. Payne of Georgetown and I started on our
+return. We got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered
+a ferocious dog that frightened the horses and made
+them run. The new animal kicked at every jump he made. I
+got the horses stopped, however, before any damage was done,
+and without running into anything. After giving them a little
+rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the new
+horse kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were
+on struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point where
+the second runaway commenced, and there was an embankment
+twenty or more feet deep on the opposite side of the pike. I got
+the horses stopped on the very brink of the precipice. My new
+horse was terribly frightened, and trembled like an aspen; but he
+was not half so badly frightened as my companion Mr. Payne,
+who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 6603]</a></span>
+a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to start,
+my new horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma
+for a time. Once in Maysville, I could borrow a horse
+from an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day's
+travel from that point. Finally I took out my bandanna&mdash;the
+style of handkerchief in universal use then&mdash;and with this blindfolded
+my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next
+day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I borrowed
+a horse from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded
+on our journey.</p>
+
+<p>About half my school days in Georgetown were spent at the
+school of John D. White, a North-Carolinian, and the father of
+Chilton White, who represented the district in Congress for one
+term during the Rebellion. Mr. White was always a Democrat
+in politics, and Chilton followed his father. He had two older
+brothers,&mdash;all three being schoolmates of mine at their father's
+school,&mdash;who did not go the same way. The second brother died
+before the Rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a
+Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave
+soldier during the Rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told
+of an earlier horse trade of mine. As he told the story, there
+was a Mr. Ralston living within a few miles of the village, who
+owned a colt which I very much wanted. My father had offered
+twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted twenty-five. I was so
+anxious to have the colt, that after the owner left I begged to
+be allowed to take him at the price demanded. My father
+yielded, but said twenty dollars was all the horse was worth, and
+told me to offer that price; if it was not accepted I was to offer
+twenty-two and a half, and if that would not get him, to give
+the twenty-five. I at once mounted a horse and went for the
+colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston's house, I said to him, "Papa
+says I may offer you twenty dollars for the colt, but if you won't
+take that, I am to offer twenty-two and a half, and if you won't
+take that, to give you twenty-five." It would not require a Connecticut
+man to guess the price finally agreed upon. This story
+is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had come
+for the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over
+eight years old at the time. This transaction caused me great
+heart-burning. The story got out among the boys of the village,
+and it was a long time before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy
+the misery of their companions,&mdash;at least village boys in that day
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 6604]</a></span>
+did, and in later life I have found that all adults are not free
+from the peculiarity. I kept the horse until he was four years
+old, when he went blind, and I sold him for twenty dollars.
+When I went to Maysville to school, in 1836, at the age of fourteen,
+I recognized my colt as one of the blind horses working on
+the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat.</p>
+
+<p>I have described enough of my early life to give an impression
+of the whole. I did not like to work; but I did as much of
+it, while young, as grown men can be hired to do in these days,
+and attended school at the same time. I had as many privileges
+as any boy in the village, and probably more than most of them.
+I have no recollection of ever having been punished at home,
+either by scolding or by the rod. But at school the case was different.
+The rod was freely used there, and I was not exempt
+from its influence. I can see John D. White, the school-teacher,
+now, with his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not
+always the same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles
+from a beech wood near the schoolhouse, by the boys for whose
+benefit they were intended. Often a whole bundle would be used
+up in a single day. I never had any hard feelings against my
+teacher, either while attending the school or in later years when
+reflecting upon my experience. Mr. White was a kind-hearted
+man, and was much respected by the community in which he
+lived. He only followed the universal custom of the period, and
+that under which he had received his own education....</p>
+
+<p>In the winter of 1838-9 I was attending school at Ripley, only
+ten miles distant from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays
+at home. During this vacation my father received a letter
+from the Honorable Thomas Morris, then United States Senator
+from Ohio. When he read it he said to me, "Ulysses, I believe
+you are going to receive the appointment." "What appointment?"
+I inquired.&mdash;"To West Point; I have applied for it."
+"But I won't go," I said. He said he thought I would, <i>and I
+thought so too, if he did</i>. I really had no objection to going to
+West Point, except that I had a very exalted idea of the acquirements
+necessary to get through. I did not believe I possessed
+them, and could not bear the idea of failing.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 6605]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="GRANTS_COURTSHIP" id="GRANTS_COURTSHIP"></a>GRANT'S COURTSHIP</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant.</h4>
+
+<p>At West Point I had a classmate,&mdash;in the last year of our
+studies he was room-mate also,&mdash;F. T. Dent, whose family
+resided some five miles west of Jefferson Barracks. Two
+of his unmarried brothers were living at home at that time, and
+as I had taken with me from Ohio my horse, saddle, and bridle,
+I soon found my way out to White Haven, the name of the
+Dent estate. As I found the family congenial, my visits became
+frequent. There were at home, besides the young men, two
+daughters, one a school-miss of fifteen, the other a girl of eight
+or nine. There was still an older daughter of seventeen, who
+had been spending several years at a boarding-school in St. Louis,
+but who, though through school, had not yet returned home.
+She was spending the winter in the city with connections, the
+family of Colonel John O'Fallon, well known in St. Louis. In
+February she returned to her country home. After that I do
+not know but my visits became more frequent: they certainly
+did become more enjoyable. We would often take walks, or go
+on horseback to visit the neighbors, until I became quite well
+acquainted in that vicinity. Sometimes one of the brothers
+would accompany us, sometimes one of the younger sisters. If
+the 4th Infantry had remained at Jefferson Barracks it is possible,
+even probable, that this life might have continued for some years
+without my finding out that there was anything serious the matter
+with me; but in the following May a circumstance occurred
+which developed my sentiment so palpably that there was no
+mistaking it.</p>
+
+<p>The annexation of Texas was at this time the subject of violent
+discussion in Congress, in the press, and by individuals. The
+administration of President Tyler, then in power, was making the
+most strenuous efforts to effect the annexation, which was indeed
+the great and absorbing question of the day. During these discussions
+the greater part of the single rifle regiment in the army&mdash;the
+2d Dragoons, which had been dismounted a year or two
+before, and designated "Dismounted Rifles"&mdash;was stationed at
+Fort Jessup, Louisiana, some twenty-five miles east of the Texas
+line, to observe the frontier. About the first of May the 3d
+Infantry was ordered from Jefferson Barracks to Louisiana, to go
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 6606]</a></span>
+into camp in the neighborhood of Fort Jessup, and there await
+further orders. The troops were embarked on steamers, and were
+on their way down the Mississippi within a few days after the
+receipt of this order. About the time they started I obtained a
+leave of absence for twenty days to go to Ohio to visit my parents.
+I was obliged to go to St. Louis to take a steamer for
+Louisville or Cincinnati, or the first steamer going up the Ohio
+River to any point. Before I left St. Louis, orders were received
+at Jefferson Barracks for the 4th Infantry to follow the 3d. A
+messenger was sent after me to stop my leaving; but before
+he could reach me I was off, totally ignorant of these events. A
+day or two after my arrival at Bethel I received a letter from
+a classmate and fellow lieutenant in the 4th, informing me of
+the circumstances related above, and advising me not to open
+any letter postmarked St. Louis or Jefferson Barracks until the
+expiration of my leave, and saying that he would pack up my
+things and take them along for me. His advice was not necessary,
+for no other letter was sent to me. I now discovered that
+I was exceedingly anxious to get back to Jefferson Barracks, and
+I understood the reason without explanation from any one. My
+leave of absence required me to report for duty at Jefferson Barracks
+at the end of twenty days. I knew my regiment had gone
+up the Red River, but I was not disposed to break the letter of
+my leave; besides, if I had proceeded to Louisiana direct, I could
+not have reached there until after the expiration of my leave.
+Accordingly, at the end of the twenty days I reported for duty
+to Lieutenant Ewell, commanding at Jefferson Barracks, handing
+him at the same time my leave of absence. After noticing the
+phraseology of the order&mdash;leaves of absence were generally
+worded, "at the end of which time he will report for duty with
+his proper command"&mdash;he said he would give me an order to
+join my regiment in Louisiana. I then asked for a few days'
+leave before starting, which he readily granted. This was the
+same Ewell who acquired considerable reputation as a Confederate
+general during the Rebellion. He was a man much esteemed,
+and deservedly so, in the old army, and proved himself a gallant
+and efficient officer in two wars&mdash;both in my estimation unholy.</p>
+
+<p>I immediately procured a horse and started for the country,
+taking no baggage with me, of course. There is an insignificant
+creek, the Gravois, between Jefferson Barracks and the place
+to which I was going, and at that day there was not a bridge
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 6607]</a></span>
+over it from its source to its mouth. There is not water enough
+in the creek at ordinary stages to run a coffee-mill, and at low
+water there is none running whatever. On this occasion it had
+been raining heavily, and when the creek was reached I found
+the banks full to overflowing, and the current rapid. I looked at
+it a moment to consider what to do. One of my superstitions
+had always been when I started to go anywhere, or do anything,
+not to turn back or stop until the thing intended was accomplished.
+I have frequently started to go to places where I had
+never been and to which I did not know the way, depending
+upon making inquiries on the road, and if I got past the place
+without knowing it, instead of turning back, I would go on until
+a road was found turning in the right direction, take that, and
+come in by the other side. So I struck into the stream, and in
+an instant the horse was swimming and I being carried down by
+the current. I headed the horse towards the other bank and soon
+reached it, wet through and without other clothes on that side of
+the stream. I went on, however, to my destination and borrowed
+a dry suit from my (future) brother-in-law. We were not of
+the same size, but the clothes answered every purpose until I got
+more of my own.</p>
+
+<p>Before I returned I mustered up courage to make known, in
+the most awkward manner imaginable, the discovery I had made
+on learning that the 4th Infantry had been ordered away from
+Jefferson Barracks. The young lady afterwards admitted that
+she too, although until then she had never looked upon me other
+than as a visitor whose company was agreeable to her, had experienced
+a depression of spirits she could not account for when
+the regiment left. Before separating, it was definitely understood
+that at a convenient time we would join our fortunes, and not
+let the removal of a regiment trouble us. This was in May 1844.
+It was the 22d of August, 1848, before the fulfillment of this
+agreement. My duties kept me on the frontier of Louisiana with
+the Army of Observation during the pendency of Annexation;
+and afterwards I was absent through the war with Mexico provoked
+by the action of the army, if not by the annexation itself.
+During that time there was a constant correspondence between
+Miss Dent and myself, but we only met once in the period of
+four years and three months. In May 1845 I procured a leave
+for twenty days, visited St. Louis, and obtained the consent of
+the parents for the union, which had not been asked for before.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 6608]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="A_TEXAN_EXPERIENCE" id="A_TEXAN_EXPERIENCE"></a>A TEXAN EXPERIENCE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant</h4>
+
+<p>I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever
+gone in search of game, and rarely seen any when looking
+for it. On this trip there was no minute of time while
+traveling between San Patricio and the settlements on the San
+Antonio River, from San Antonio to Austin, and again from the
+Colorado River back to San Patricio, when deer or antelope
+could not be seen in great numbers. Each officer carried a shotgun,
+and every evening after going into camp, some would go
+out and soon return with venison and wild turkeys enough for
+the entire camp. I however never went out, and had no occasion
+to fire my gun; except, being detained over a day at Goliad,
+Benjamin and I concluded to go down to the creek&mdash;which was
+fringed with timber, much of it the pecan&mdash;and bring back a
+few turkeys. We had scarcely reached the edge of the timber
+when I heard the flutter of wings overhead, and in an instant I
+saw two or three turkeys flying away. These were soon followed
+by more, then more and more, until a flock of twenty or thirty
+had left from just over my head. All this time I stood watching
+the turkeys to see where they flew, with my gun on my
+shoulder, and never once thought of leveling it at the birds.
+When I had time to reflect upon the matter, I came to the conclusion
+that as a sportsman I was a failure, and went back to
+the house. Benjamin remained out, and got as many turkeys as
+he wanted to carry back.</p>
+
+<p>After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to
+make the remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus
+Christi just in time to avoid "absence without leave." We met
+no one, not even an Indian, during the remainder of our journey,
+except at San Patricio. A new settlement had been started
+there in our absence of three weeks, induced possibly by the
+fact that there were houses already built, while the proximity
+of troops gave protection against the Indians. On the evening
+of the first day out from Goliad we heard the most unearthly
+howling of wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was
+tall and we could not see the beasts, but the sound indicated
+that they were near. To my ear it appeared that there must
+have been enough of them to devour our party, horses and all,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 6609]</a></span>
+at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed from was not
+thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before I
+left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less populated, where the
+wolf yet roamed over the prairies. He understood the nature of
+the animal, and the capacity of a few to make believe there was
+an unlimited number of them. He kept on towards the noise,
+unmoved. I followed in his trail, lacking moral courage to turn
+back and join our sick companion. I have no doubt that if Benjamin
+had proposed returning to Goliad, I would not only have
+"seconded the motion," but have suggested that it was very
+hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the first place;
+but Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak
+it was to ask, "Grant, how many wolves do you think there are
+in that pack?" Knowing where he was from, and suspecting
+that he thought I would overestimate the number, I determined
+to show my acquaintance with the animal by putting the estimate
+below what possibly could be correct, and answered, "Oh,
+about twenty," very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In
+a minute we were close upon them, and before they saw us.
+There were just <i>two</i> of them. Seated upon their haunches, with
+their mouths close together, they had made all the noise we had
+been hearing for the past ten minutes. I have often thought of
+this incident since, when I have heard the noise of a few disappointed
+politicians who had deserted their associates. There
+are always more of them before they are counted.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_SURRENDER_OF_GENERAL_LEE" id="THE_SURRENDER_OF_GENERAL_LEE"></a>THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL LEE</h3>
+
+<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant</h4>
+
+<p>Wars produce many stories of fiction, some of which are told
+until they are believed to be true. The War of the Rebellion
+was no exception to this rule, and the story of the
+apple-tree is one of those fictions based on a slight foundation of
+fact. As I have said, there was an apple orchard on the side of
+the hill occupied by the Confederate forces. Running diagonally
+up the hill was a wagon road, which at one point ran very near
+one of the trees, so that the wheels of vehicles had on that
+side cut off the roots of this tree, leaving a little embankment.
+General Babcock, of my staff, reported to me that when he first
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 6610]</a></span>
+met General Lee he was sitting upon this embankment with his
+feet in the road below and his back resting against the tree.
+The story had no other foundation than that. Like many other
+stories, it would be very good if it was only true.</p>
+
+<p>I had known General Lee in the old army, and had served
+with him in the Mexican War: but did not suppose, owing to
+the difference in our age and rank, that he would remember
+me; while I would more naturally remember him distinctly, because
+he was the chief of staff of General Scott in the Mexican
+War.</p>
+
+<p>When I had left camp that morning I had not expected so
+soon the result that was then taking place, and consequently was
+in rough garb. I was without a sword, as I usually was when
+on horseback on the field, and wore a soldier's blouse for a coat,
+with the shoulder-straps of my rank to indicate to the army who
+I was. When I went into the house I found General Lee. We
+greeted each other, and after shaking hands took our seats. I
+had my staff with me, a good portion of whom were in the room
+during the whole of the interview.</p>
+
+<p>What General Lee's feelings were I do not know. As he was
+a man of much dignity, with an impassible face, it was impossible
+to say whether he felt inwardly glad that the end had finally
+come, or felt sad over the result and was too manly to show it.
+Whatever his feelings, they were entirely concealed from my
+observation; but my own feelings, which had been quite jubilant
+on the receipt of his letter, were sad and depressed. I felt like
+anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of a foe who had
+fought so long and valiantly, and had suffered so much for a
+cause,&mdash;though that cause was, I believe, one of the worst for
+which a people ever fought, and one for which there was the
+least excuse. I do not question, however, the sincerity of the
+great mass of those who were opposed to us.</p>
+
+<p>General Lee was dressed in a full uniform which was entirely
+new, and was wearing a sword of considerable value, very likely
+the sword which had been presented by the State of Virginia;
+at all events, it was an entirely different sword from the one
+that would ordinarily be worn in the field. In my rough traveling
+suit, the uniform of a private with the straps of a lieutenant-general,
+I must have contrasted very strangely with a man so
+handsomely dressed, six feet high and of faultless form. But
+this was not a matter that I thought of until afterwards.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 6611]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We soon fell into a conversation about old army times. He
+remarked that he remembered me very well in the old army;
+and I told him that as a matter of course I remembered him
+perfectly, but from the difference in our rank and years (there
+being about sixteen years' difference in our ages), I had thought
+it very likely that I had not attracted his attention sufficiently to
+be remembered by him after such a long interval. Our conversation
+grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the object of our
+meeting. After the conversation had run on in this style for
+some time, General Lee called my attention to the object of our
+meeting, and said that he had asked for this interview for the
+purpose of getting from me the terms I proposed to give his
+army. I said that I meant merely that his army should lay
+down their arms, not to take them up again during the continuance
+of the war unless duly and properly exchanged. He said
+that he had so understood my letter.</p>
+
+<p>Then we gradually fell off again into conversation about matters
+foreign to the subject which had brought us together. This
+continued for some little time, when General Lee again interrupted
+the course of the conversation by suggesting that the
+terms I had proposed to give his army ought to be written out.
+I called to General Parker, secretary on my staff, for writing materials,
+and commenced writing out the following terms:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Appomattox C. H., Va.</span>, April 9th, 1865.</p>
+
+<p><i>Gen. R. E. Lee, Comd'g C. S. A.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span>:&mdash;In accordance with the substance of my letter to you
+of the 8th inst., I propose to receive the surrender of the
+Army of N. Va. on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of
+all the officers and men to be made in duplicate. One copy to
+be given to an officer designated by me, the other to be retained
+by such officer or officers as you may designate. The officers to
+give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the
+Government of the United States until properly exchanged, and
+each company or regimental commander sign a like parole for
+the men of their commands. The arms, artillery, and public
+property to be parked and stacked, and turned over to the officer
+appointed by me to receive them. This will not embrace the
+side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage.
+This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 6612]</a></span>
+their homes, not to be disturbed by United States authority so
+long as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where
+they may reside.</p>
+
+<p class="regards">Very respectfully,</p>
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">U. S. Grant</span>,</p>
+<p style="text-align:right">Lt. Gen.<br /></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>When I put my pen to the paper I did not know the first
+word that I should make use of in writing the terms. I only
+knew what was in my mind, and I wished to express it clearly,
+so that there could be no mistaking it. As I wrote on, the
+thought occurred to me that the officers had their own private
+horses and effects, which were important to them but of no value
+to us; also that it would be an unnecessary humiliation to call
+upon them to deliver their side-arms.</p>
+
+<p>No conversation, not one word, passed between General
+Lee and myself, either about private property, side-arms, or
+kindred subjects. He appeared to have no objections to the
+terms first proposed; or if he had a point to make against them,
+he wished to wait until they were in writing to make it. When
+he read over that part of the terms about side-arms, horses,
+and private property of the officers, he remarked&mdash;with some
+feeling, I thought&mdash;that this would have a happy effect upon
+his army.</p>
+
+<p>Then, after a little further conversation, General Lee remarked
+to me again that their army was organized a little diferently
+from the army of the United States (still maintaining
+by implication that we were two countries); that in their army
+the cavalrymen and artillerists owned their own horses: and he
+asked if he was to understand that the men who so owned their
+horses were to be permitted to retain them. I told him that as
+the terms were written they would not; that only the officers
+were permitted to take their private property. He then, after
+reading over the terms a second time, remarked that that was
+clear.</p>
+
+<p>I then said to him that I thought this would be about the
+last battle of the war&mdash;I sincerely hoped so; and I said further,
+I took it that most of the men in the ranks were small farmers.
+The whole country had been so raided by the two armies that it
+was doubtful whether they would be able to put in a crop to
+carry themselves and their families through the next winter
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 6613]</a></span>
+without the aid of the horses they were then riding. The United
+States did not want them; and I would therefore instruct the
+officers I left behind to receive the paroles of his troops to let
+every man of the Confederate army who claimed to own a horse
+or mule take the animal to his home. Lee remarked again that
+this would have a happy effect.</p>
+
+<p>He then sat down and wrote out the following letter:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Headquarters Army of Northern Virginia</span>, April 9th, 1865.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">General</span>:&mdash;I received your letter of this date containing the
+terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia
+as proposed by you.  As they are substantially the same
+as those expressed in your letter of the 8th inst., they are accepted.
+I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry
+the stipulations into effect.</p>
+
+<p class="regards"><span class="smcap">R. E. Lee</span>,</p>
+<p class="author">General.</p>
+<p class="salute"><i>Lieut.-General U. S. Grant.</i><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>While duplicates of the two letters were being made, the
+Union generals present were severally presented to General Lee.</p>
+
+<p>The much-talked-of surrendering of Lee's sword and my
+handing it back, this and much more that has been said about it
+is the purest romance. The word sword or side-arms was not
+mentioned by either of us until I wrote it in the terms. There
+was no premeditation, and it did not occur to me until the
+moment I wrote it down. If I had happened to omit it, and
+General Lee had called my attention to it, I should have put
+it in the terms, precisely as I acceded to the provision about the
+soldiers retaining their horses.</p>
+
+<p>General Lee, after all was completed and before taking his
+leave, remarked that his army was in a very bad condition for
+want of food, and that they were without forage; that his men
+had been living for some days on parched corn exclusively, and
+that he would have to ask me for rations and forage. I told him
+"Certainly," and asked for how many men he wanted rations.
+His answer was "About twenty-five thousand"; and I authorized
+him to send his own commissary and quartermaster to Appomattox
+Station, two or three miles away, where he could have, out
+of the trains we had stopped, all the provisions wanted. As for
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 6614]</a></span>
+forage, we had ourselves depended almost entirely upon the country
+for that.</p>
+
+<p>Generals Gibbon, Griffin, and Merritt were designated by
+me to carry into effect the paroling of Lee's troops before they
+should start for their homes,&mdash;General Lee leaving Generals
+Longstreet, Gordon, and Pendleton for them to confer with in
+order to facilitate this work. Lee and I then separated as
+cordially as we had met, he returning to his own lines, and all
+went into bivouac for the night at Appomattox.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 6615]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="HENRY_GRATTAN" id="HENRY_GRATTAN"></a>HENRY GRATTAN</h2>
+
+<h4>(1746-1820)</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/caph.png" width="90" height="90" alt="H" title="H" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">enry Grattan, eminent among Irish orators and statesmen,
+was born in Dublin, July 3d, 1746. He graduated from
+Trinity College in 1767, became a law student of the Middle
+Temple, London, and was admitted to the bar in 1772. He soon became
+drawn into open political life, entering the Irish Parliament in
+1775.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;">
+<img src="images/grattan.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Henry Grattan" title="Henry Grattan" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Henry Grattan</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In Parliament he espoused the popular cause. His memorable
+displays of oratory followed fast and plentifully. On April 19th, 1780,
+he attacked the right of England to legislate
+for Ireland. With that address his reputation
+was made. He became incessant in
+his efforts to remove oppressive legislation.
+By his eloquence he quickened into life a
+national spirit, to culminate in a convention
+at Dungannon on February 15th, 1782, where
+resolutions in favor of legislative independence
+were stormily adopted. Presently, after
+a speech of surpassing power from him, the
+Declaration of Rights Bill was passed unanimously
+by both houses, with an unwilling
+enactment from England. The idol now of
+Ireland, Grattan was voted by its Parliament
+a grant of &pound;50,000 "as a testimony of national
+gratitude for great national services." The next eighteen years
+saw him resolute to secure for Ireland liberal laws, greater commercial
+freedom, better conditions for the peasantry, the wiping out of
+Parliamentary corruption, and especially the absolute emancipation of
+the Roman Catholics. After the Union he lived in retirement, devoting
+himself to the study of the classics and to the education of his children
+until 1805. Then at the request of Fox he entered the imperial
+Parliament, making his first speech in favor of Fox's motion for a
+committee on the Roman Catholic Petition, an address described as
+"one of the most brilliant speeches ever made within the walls of
+Parliament." In 1806 he was elected a member for Dublin, which city
+he represented until his decease. His last speech was made on May
+5th, 1819, in favor of Roman Catholic emancipation. It is to be noted
+that he was by profession and conviction a Protestant. He died in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 6616]</a></span>
+1820. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the graves of Chatham
+and Fox.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of great natural drawbacks, Grattan achieved the highest
+rank as an orator; and his passionate eloquence has rarely been
+equaled in fervor and originality.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="ON_THE_CHARACTER_OF_CHATHAM" id="ON_THE_CHARACTER_OF_CHATHAM"></a>ON THE CHARACTER OF CHATHAM</h3>
+
+<p>The Secretary stood alone; modern degeneracy had not reached
+him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of his
+character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind
+overawed majesty; and one of his sovereigns thought royalty so
+impaired in his presence that he conspired to remove him, in
+order to be relieved from his superiority. No State chicanery,
+no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar
+level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable,
+his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing,
+he destroyed party; without corrupting, he made a venal age
+unanimous.</p>
+
+<p>France sank beneath him. With one hand he smote the
+house of Bourbon, and wielded with the other the democracy of
+England. The sight of his mind was infinite; and his schemes
+were to affect, not England and the present age only, but Europe
+and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes
+were accomplished; always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions
+of an understanding animated by order and enlightened
+by prophecy.</p>
+
+<p>The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indolent
+were unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness
+reached him; but aloof from the sordid occurrences of life,
+and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our
+system to counsel and to decide. A character so exalted, so
+strenuous, so various, and so authoritative astonished a corrupt
+age; and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, through all
+her classes of venality. Corruption imagined indeed that she
+had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the
+ruin of his victories; but the history of his country and the
+calamities of the enemy refuted her.</p>
+
+<p>Nor were his political abilities his only talents: his eloquence
+was an era in the Senate; peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 6617]</a></span>
+expressing gigantic sentiments and instinctive wisdom; not like
+the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of
+Tully, it resembled sometimes the thunder and sometimes the
+music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the
+understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation, nor
+was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of exertion; but
+rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by
+flashings of the mind, which like those of his eye were felt but
+could not be followed.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the whole, there was something in this man that could
+create, subvert, or reform: an understanding, a spirit, and an
+eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds
+of slavery asunder and to rule the wilderness of free minds with
+unbounded authority; something that could establish or overwhelm
+empires, and strike a blow in the world which should resound
+throughout the universe.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="OF_THE_INJUSTICE_OF_DISQUALIFICATION_OF_CATHOLICS" id="OF_THE_INJUSTICE_OF_DISQUALIFICATION_OF_CATHOLICS"></a>OF THE INJUSTICE OF DISQUALIFICATION OF CATHOLICS</h3>
+
+<h4>From the Speech of May 31st, 1811</h4>
+
+<p>Whatever belongs to the authority of God, or to the laws of
+nature, is necessarily beyond the province and sphere of
+human institution and government. The Roman Catholic,
+when you disqualify him on the ground of his religion, may with
+great justice tell you that you are not his God, that he cannot
+mold or fashion his faith by your decrees. You may inflict penalties,
+and he may suffer them in silence; but if Parliament assume
+the prerogative of Heaven, and enact laws to impose upon
+the people a different religion, the people will not obey such
+laws. If you pass an act to impose a tax or regulate a duty,
+the people can go to the roll to learn what are the provisions of
+the law. But whenever you take upon yourselves to legislate
+for God, though there may be truth in your enactments, you
+have no authority to enforce them. In such a case, the people
+will not go to the roll of Parliament, but to the Bible, the testament
+of God's will, to ascertain his law and their duty. When
+once man goes out of his sphere, and says he will legislate for
+God, he in fact makes himself God. But this I do not charge
+upon the Parliament, because in none of the Penal Acts has the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 6618]</a></span>
+Parliament imposed a religious creed. It is not to be traced in
+the qualification oath, nor in the declaration required. The qualifying
+oath, as to the great number of offices and seats in Parliament,
+scrupulously evades religious distinctions; a Dissenter of
+any class may take it, a Deist, an atheist, may likewise take it.
+The Catholics are alone excepted; and for what reason? Certainly
+not because the internal character of the Catholic religion is
+inherently vicious; not because it necessarily incapacitates those
+who profess it to make laws for their fellow-citizens. If a Deist
+be fit to sit in Parliament, it can hardly be urged that a Christian
+is unfit. If an atheist be competent to legislate for his country,
+surely this privilege cannot be denied to the believer in the
+divinity of our Savior. But let me ask you if you have forgotten
+what was the faith of your ancestors, or if you are prepared to
+assert that the men who procured your liberties are unfit to make
+your laws? Or do you forget the tempests by which the Dissenting
+classes of the community were at a former period agitated,
+or in what manner you fixed the rule of peace over that wild
+scene of anarchy and commotion? If we attend to the present
+condition and habits of these classes, do we not find their controversies
+subsisting in full vigor? and can it be said that their
+jarring sentiments and clashing interests are productive of any
+disorder in the State; or that the Methodist himself, in all his
+noisy familiarity with his Maker, is a dangerous or disloyal subject?
+Upon what principle can it be argued that the application
+of a similar policy would not conciliate the Catholics, and promote
+the general interests of the empire? I can trace the continuance
+of their incapacities to nothing else than a political
+combination; a combination that condemned the Catholic religion,
+not as a heresy, but as a symptom of a civil alienation. By this
+doctrine, the religion is not so much an evil in itself as a perpetual
+token of political disaffection. In the spirit of this liberal
+interpretation, you once decreed to take away their arms, and on
+another occasion ordered all Papists to be removed from London.
+In the whole subsequent course of administration, the religion has
+continued to be esteemed the infallible symptom of a propensity
+to rebel. Known or suspected Papists were once the objects of
+the severest jealousy and the bitterest enactments. Some of these
+statutes have been repealed, and the jealousy has since somewhat
+abated; but the same suspicions, although in a less degree, pervade
+your councils. Your imaginations are still infected with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 6619]</a></span>
+apprehensions of the proneness of the Catholics to make cause
+with a foreign foe. A treaty has lately been made with the
+King of the Two Sicilies. May I ask: Is his religion the evidence
+of the warmth of his attachment to your alliance? Does it enter
+into your calculation as one of the motives that must incline him
+to our friendship, in preference to the friendship of the State
+professing his own faith? A similar treaty has been recently
+entered into with the Prince Regent of Portugal, professing the
+Roman Catholic religion; and one million granted last year and
+two millions this session, for the defense of Portugal. Nay, even
+in the treaty with the Prince Regent of Portugal, there is an
+article which stipulates that we shall not make peace with France
+unless Portugal shall be restored to the house of Braganza. And
+has the Prince of Brazil's religion been considered evidence of
+his connection with the enemy? You have not one ally who is
+not Catholic; and will you continue to disqualify Irish Catholics,
+who fight with you and your allies, because their religion is evidence
+of disaffection?</p>
+
+<p>But if the Catholic religion be this evidence of repugnance, is
+Protestantism the proof of affection to the Crown and government
+of England? For an answer, let us look at America. In vain
+did you send your armies there; in vain did you appeal to the
+ties of common origin and common religion. America joined
+with France, and adopted a connection with a Catholic government.
+Turn to Prussia, and behold whether her religion has had
+any effect on her political character. Did the faith of Denmark
+prevent the attack on Copenhagen? It is admitted on all sides
+that the Catholics have demonstrated their allegiance in as strong
+a manner as the willing expenditure of blood and treasure can
+evince. And remember that the French go not near so far in
+their defense of Catholicism, as you in your hatred of it in your
+own subjects and your reverence for it in your allies. They
+have not scrupled to pull down the ancient fabrics of superstition
+in the countries subjected to their arms. Upon a review of
+these facts, I am justified in assuming that there is nothing inherent
+in Catholicism which either proves disaffection, or disqualifies
+for public trusts. The immediate inference is that they
+have as much right as any dissentient sect to the enjoyment of
+civil privileges and a participation of equal rights; that they are
+as fit morally and politically to hold offices in the State or seats
+in Parliament. Those who dispute the conclusion will find it
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 6620]</a></span>
+their duty to controvert the reasoning on which it is founded. I
+do not believe the Church is in any danger; but if it is, I am
+sure that we are in a wrong way to secure it. If our laws will
+battle against Providence, there can be no doubt of the issue of
+the conflict between the ordinances of God and the decrees of
+man: transient must be the struggle, rapid the event. Let us
+suppose an extreme case, but applicable to the present point:
+Suppose the Thames were to inundate its banks, and suddenly
+swelling, enter this House during our deliberations (an event
+which I greatly deprecate, from my private friendship with many
+members who might happen to be present, and my sense of the
+great exertions which many of them have made for the public
+interest), and a motion of adjournment being made, should be
+opposed, and an address to Providence moved that it would
+be graciously pleased to turn back the overflow and direct the
+waters into another channel. This, it will be said, would be
+absurd; but consider whether you are acting upon a principle of
+greater intrinsic wisdom, when after provoking the resentments
+you arm and martialize the ambition of men, under the vain
+assurance that Providence will work a miracle in the constitution
+of human nature, and dispose it to pay injustice with affection,
+oppression with cordial support. This is in fact the true character
+of your expectations; nothing less than that the Author of
+the Universe should subvert his laws to ratify your statutes, and
+disturb the settled course of nature to confirm the weak, the base
+expedients of man. What says the Decalogue? Honor thy father.
+What says the penal law? Take away his estate! Again, says
+the Decalogue, Do not steal. The law, on the contrary, proclaims,
+You may rob a Catholic!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="ON_THE_DOWNFALL_OF_BONAPARTE" id="ON_THE_DOWNFALL_OF_BONAPARTE"></a>ON THE DOWNFALL OF BONAPARTE</h3>
+
+<h4>From the Speech of May 25th, 1815</h4>
+
+<p>The French government is war; it is a stratocracy, elective,
+aggressive, and predatory; her armies live to fight, and
+fight to live; their constitution is essentially war, and the
+object of that war the conquest of Europe. What such a person
+as Bonaparte at the head of such a constitution will do, you may
+judge by what he has done: and first he took possession of a
+greater part of Europe; he made his son King of Rome; he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 6621]</a></span>
+made his son-in-law Viceroy of Italy; he made his brother King
+of Holland; he made his brother-in-law King of Naples; he
+imprisoned the King of Spain; he banished the Regent of Portugal,
+and formed his plan to take possession of the Crown of
+England. England had checked his designs; her trident had
+stirred up his empire from its foundation. He complained of her
+tyranny at sea; but it was her power at sea which arrested his
+tyranny on land,&mdash;the navy of England saved Europe. Knowing
+this, he knew the conquest of England became necessary for the
+accomplishment of the conquest of Europe, and the destruction
+of her marine necessary for the conquest of England. Accordingly,
+besides raising an army of 60,000 men for the invasion
+of England, he applied himself to the destruction of her commerce,
+the foundation of her naval power. In pursuit of this
+object and on his plan of a Western empire, he conceived and
+in part executed the design of consigning to plunder and destruction
+the vast regions of Russia. He quits the genial clime
+of the temperate zone; he bursts through the narrow limits of an
+immense empire; he abandons comfort and security, and he hurries
+to the Pole to hazard them all, and with them the companions
+of his victories and the fame and fruits of his crimes and
+his talents, on speculation of leaving in Europe, throughout the
+whole of its extent, no one free or independent nation. To
+oppose this huge conception of mischief and despotism, the great
+potentate of the north from his gloomy recesses advances to
+defend himself against the voracity of ambition, amid the sterility
+of his empire. Ambition is omnivorous; it feasts on famine
+and sheds tons of blood, that it may starve in ice in order to
+commit a robbery on desolation. The power of the north, I say,
+joins another prince, whom Bonaparte had deprived of almost the
+whole of his authority,&mdash;the King of Prussia; and then another
+potentate, whom Bonaparte had deprived of the principal part of
+his dominions,&mdash;the Emperor of Austria. These three powers,
+physical causes, final justice, the influence of your victories in
+Spain and Portugal, and the spirit given to Europe by the
+achievements and renown of your great commander [the Duke
+of Wellington], together with the precipitation of his own ambition,
+combine to accomplish his destruction; Bonaparte is conquered.
+He who said, "I will be like the Most High," he who
+smote the nations with a continual stroke,&mdash;this short-lived son
+of the morning, Lucifer,&mdash;falls, and the earth is at rest; the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 6622]</a></span>
+phantom of royalty passes on to nothing, and the three kings to
+the gates of Paris: there they stand, the late victims of his
+ambition, and now the disposers of his destiny and the masters
+of his empire. Without provocation he had gone to their countries
+with fire and sword; with the greatest provocation they
+came to his country with life and liberty: they do an act unparalleled
+in the annals of history, such as nor envy, nor time, nor
+malice, nor prejudice, nor ingratitude can efface; they give to
+his subjects liberty, and to himself life and royalty. This is
+greater than conquest! The present race must confess their virtues,
+and ages to come must crown their monuments, and place
+them above heroes and kings in glory everlasting....</p>
+
+<p>Do you wish to confirm this military tyranny in the heart
+of Europe,&mdash;a tyranny founded on the triumph of the army
+over the principles of civil government, tending to universalize
+throughout Europe the domination of the sword,&mdash;and to reduce
+to paper and parchment, Magna Charta and all our civil constitutions?
+An experiment such as no country ever made and no
+good country would ever permit: to relax the moral and religious
+influences; to set heaven and earth adrift from one another, and
+make God Almighty a tolerated alien in his own creation; an
+insurrectionary hope to every bad man in the community, and a
+frightful lesson to profit and power, vested in those who have
+pandered their allegiance from king to emperor, and now found
+their pretensions to domination on the merit of breaking their
+oaths and deposing their sovereign. Should you do anything so
+monstrous as to leave your allies in order to confirm such a system;
+should you forget your name, forget your ancestors, and the
+inheritance they have left you of morality and renown; should
+you astonish Europe by quitting your allies to render immortal
+such a composition, would not the nations exclaim: "You have
+very providently watched over our interests, and very generously
+have you contributed to our service,&mdash;and do you falter now? In
+vain have you stopped in your own person the flying fortunes of
+Europe; in vain have you taken the eagle of Napoleon and
+snatched <i>invincibility</i> from his standard, if now, when confederated
+Europe is ready to march, you take the lead in the desertion
+and preach the penitence of Bonaparte and the poverty of
+England."</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 6623]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="GRAY" id="GRAY"></a>
+<span class="caption">THOMAS GRAY.</span>
+<img src="images/gray.jpg" width="100%" alt="THOMAS GRAY." title="THOMAS GRAY." />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="THOMAS_GRAY" id="THOMAS_GRAY"></a>THOMAS GRAY</h2>
+
+<h4>(1716-1771)</h4>
+
+<h4>BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capt.png" width="90" height="90" alt="T" title="T" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">he fame of Thomas Gray is unique among English poets, in
+that, although world-wide and luminous, it springs from a
+single poem, a flawless masterpiece,&mdash;the 'Elegy Written in
+a Country Church-Yard.' This is the one production by which he is
+known to the great mass of readers and will continue to be known
+to coming generations; yet in his own time his other poems were
+important factors, in establishing the high repute accorded to him
+then and still maintained in the esteem of critics. Nevertheless, living
+to be nearly fifty-five and giving himself exclusively to letters,
+the whole of the work that he left behind him amounted only to
+some fourteen hundred lines.</p>
+
+<p>His value to literature and to posterity, therefore, is to be measured
+not by the quantity of his literary contributions or by any special
+variety in their scope, but by a certain wholesome and independent
+influence which he exerted upon the language of poetry, and by a
+rare quality of intense yet seemingly calm and almost repressed
+genius, which no one among his commentators has been able to define
+clearly. The most comprehensive thing ever written about him&mdash;wise,
+just, witty, yet sympathetic and penetrating&mdash;is the essay by
+James Russell Lowell in his final volume of criticism.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is the rarest thing," says Lowell, "to find genius and dilettantism
+united in the same person (as for a time they were in Goethe): for genius
+implies always a certain fanaticism of temperament, which, if sometimes it
+seem fitful, is yet capable of intense energy on occasion; while the main characteristic
+of the dilettante is that sort of impartiality which springs from
+inertia of mind, admirable for observation, incapable of turning it to practical
+account. Yet we have, I think, an example of this rare combination of qualities
+in Gray; and it accounts both for the kind of excellence to which he
+attained, and for the way in which he disappointed expectation.... He
+is especially interesting as an artist in words and phrases, a literary type far
+less common among writers of English than it is in France or Italy, where perhaps
+the traditions of Latin culture were never wholly lost.... When so
+many have written so much, we shall the more readily pardon the man who
+has written too little or just enough."</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 6624]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He was born in London, December 26th, 1716, the son of a money
+scrivener who had dissipated most of his inherited property, but was
+skilled in music, and perhaps transmitted to the son that musical
+element which gives beauty and strength to his poetry. Gray's
+mother was a woman of character, who with his aunt set up an
+India warehouse and supported herself; also sending the young man
+to St. Peter's College, Cambridge, after his studies at Eton. Leaving
+college without a degree, he traveled on the Continent of Europe
+with Horace Walpole in 1739; then returned to Cambridge and passed
+the remainder of his life in the university, as a bachelor of civil law
+nominally,&mdash;not practicing, but devoting himself to study and to
+excursions through rural England. He had a profound and passionate
+love for nature, a kind of religious exaltation in the contemplation
+of it and in mountain worship, which was at variance with the prevailing
+eighteenth-century literary mood and prefigured the feeling
+of Wordsworth. His mother having retired to Stoke Poges, Buckinghamshire,
+he often made visits there; and the church-yard of his
+deathless 'Elegy' is generally believed to be that of the parish
+church at Stoke Poges. It was here that he was laid to rest in
+the same tomb with his mother and his aunt, after his death, July
+24th, 1771.</p>
+
+<p>The 'Elegy' was finished in 1749. He had begun writing it seven
+years before. This has sometimes been alluded to as an instance in
+point of Horace's advice, that a poem should be matured for seven
+years. The length of time given to the 'Elegy,' however, may be
+accounted for partly by Gray's dilatory habits of writing, and partly
+by the parallel of Tennyson's long delay in perfecting the utterance
+of his meditations on the death of his friend Hallam through 'In
+Memoriam.' Gray's dearest friend, Richard West, died in 1742; and
+it was apparently under the stress of that sorrow that he began the
+'Elegy,' which was completed only in 1749. Two years later it was
+published. It won the popular heart immediately, and passed through
+four editions in the first twelvemonth.</p>
+
+<p>Of Gray's other poems, those which have left the deepest impression
+are his 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College,' 'The
+Progress of Poesy,' and 'The Bard.' The last two are somewhat
+Pindaric in style, but also suggest the influence of the Italian canzone.
+In the Eton College ode, his first published piece, occurs the
+phrase since grown proverbial, "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly
+to be wise." It is a curious fact that while most readers know Gray
+only as the author of the 'Elegy,' every one is familiar with certain
+lines coined by him, but unaware of their source. For instance, in
+'The Progress of Poesy,' he speaks of</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 6625]</a></span>
+It is in the same place that he describes Milton as "blasted with excess
+of light," and in alluding to Dryden, evolves the image of</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>His, too, in 'The Bard,' is the now well-known line&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Many of his finest expressions are in part derived from classic or
+other poets; but he showed undeniable genius in his adaptation,
+transformation, or new creation from these suggestive passages.</p>
+
+<p>Gray was small and delicate in person, handsome and refined, fond
+of fashionable dress, and preferred to be known as a "gentleman"
+rather than a poet. He was very reticent, somewhat melancholy, and
+an invalid; a man also of vast erudition, being learned not only in
+literature but in botany, zoology, antiquities, architecture, art, history,
+and philosophy as well. He enjoyed the distinction of refusing the
+post of poet laureate, after the death of Cibber. On the other hand,
+he coveted the place of professor of modern literature and languages
+at Cambridge University, to which he was appointed in 1769; but he
+never performed any of the duties of his professorship beyond that of
+drawing the salary.</p>
+
+<p>He brought forth nothing in the special kinds of knowledge which
+he had acquired in such large measure; and the actual ideas conveyed
+in his poetry were not original, but savored rather of the
+commonplace. Lowell says of the 'Elegy' that it won its popularity
+"not through any originality of thought, but far more through originality
+of sound." There must, however, be some deeper reason than
+this for the grasp which it has upon the minds and hearts of all
+classes. Two elements of power and popularity it certainly possessed
+in the highest degree. One is the singular simplicity of its language
+(a result of consummate art), which makes it understandable by everybody.
+The other is the depth and the sincerity of the emotion with
+which it imbues thoughts, sentiments, and reflections that are common
+to the whole of mankind. The very unproductiveness of Gray's
+mind in other directions probably helped this one product. The
+quintessence of all his learning, his perceptive faculty, and his meditations
+was infused into the life-blood of this immortal poem.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 531px;">
+<img src="images/sign403.png" width="531" height="76" alt="George Parsons Lathrop" title="George Parsons Lathrop" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 6626]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;">
+<a name="CHURCH" id="CHURCH"></a>
+<span class="caption"><i>STOKE POGES CHURCH AND CHURCHYARD.</i></span>
+<img src="images/church.jpg" width="100%" alt="STOKE POGES CHURCH." title="STOKE POGES CHURCH." />
+<p class="center"><b>The burial-place of Thomas Gray and the scene of his famous Elegy.<br />
+Photogravure from a Photograph.</b></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="ELEGY_WRITTEN_IN_A_COUNTRY_CHURCH-YARD" id="ELEGY_WRITTEN_IN_A_COUNTRY_CHURCH-YARD"></a>ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The plowman homeward plods his weary way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And leaves the world to darkness and to me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all the air a solemn stillness holds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The moping owl does to the moon complain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Molest her ancient, solitary reign.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each in his narrow cell forever laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or busy housewife ply her evening care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No children run to lisp their sire's return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How jocund did they drive their team afield!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The short and simple annals of the poor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Await alike th' inevitable hour:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The paths of glory lead but to the grave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 6627]</a></span><span class="i0">Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can storied urn or animated bust<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And froze the genial current of the soul.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little tyrant of his fields withstood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Th' applause of listening senates to command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The threats of Pain and Ruin to despise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And read their history in a nation's eyes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">[The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Exalt the brave, and idolize success;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But more to Innocence their safety owe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than Power and Genius e'er conspired to bless.]<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">[Hark, how the sacred calm that broods around<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 6628]</a></span><span class="i0">In still, small accents whispering from the ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A grateful earnest of eternal peace.]<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their sober wishes never learned to stray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the cool, sequestered vale of life<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet even these bones from insult to protect,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some frail memorial, still erected nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their names, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The place of fame and elegy supply;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a holy text around she strews,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That teach the rustic moralist to die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On some fond breast the parting soul relies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some pious drops the closing eye requires:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For thee who, mindful of th' unhonored dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Haply some hoary-headed swain may say:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His listless length at noontide would he stretch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pore upon the brook that babbles by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Along the heath, and near his favorite tree:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 6629]</a></span><span class="i0">Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The next, with dirges due in sad array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The redbreast loves to build and warble there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And little footsteps lightly print the ground."]<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Epitaph</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Melancholy marked him for her own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heaven did a recompense as largely send:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He gave to Misery all he had,&mdash;a tear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No farther seek his merits to disclose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Bosom of his Father and his God.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[The stanzas included in brackets were omitted by Gray in the first edition
+of the 'Elegy,' and as sanctioned by him or by later editors are (except as
+to the third one) of infrequent appearance in the poem.]</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="ODE_ON_THE_SPRING" id="ODE_ON_THE_SPRING"></a>ODE ON THE SPRING</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo! Where the rosy-bosomed Hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair Venus's train, appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disclose the long-expecting flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wake the purple year!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Attic warbler pours her throat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Responsive to the cuckoo's note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The untaught harmony of spring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, whispering pleasure as they fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their gathered fragrance fling.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 6630]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A broader, browner shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er-canopies the glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside some water's rushy brink<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With me the Muse shall sit, and think<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(At ease reclined in rustic state)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How vain the ardor of the crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How low, how little are the proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How indigent the great!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still is the toiling hand of Care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The panting herds repose:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet hark! how through the peopled air<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The busy murmur glows!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The insect-youth are on the wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eager to taste the honeyed spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And float amid the liquid noon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some lightly o'er the current skim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some show their gayly gilded trim<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Quick-glancing to the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To Contemplation's sober eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such is the race of Man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they that creep, and they that fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall end where they began.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alike the Busy and the Gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But flutter through life's little day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Fortune's varying colors drest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brushed by the hand of rough Mischance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or chilled by Age, their airy dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They leave, in dust to rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Methinks I hear, in accents low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sportive kind reply:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor moralist! and what art thou?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A solitary fly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy joys no glittering female meets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No painted plumage to display:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On hasty wings thy youth is flown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We frolic while 'tis May.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 6631]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="ON_A_DISTANT_PROSPECT_OF_ETON_COLLEGE" id="ON_A_DISTANT_PROSPECT_OF_ETON_COLLEGE"></a>ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That crown the watery glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where grateful Science still adores<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her Henry's holy shade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ye, that from the stately brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wanders the hoary Thames along<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His silver-winding way!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, fields beloved in vain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where once my careless childhood strayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A stranger yet to pain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel the gales that from ye blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A momentary bliss bestow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As waving fresh their gladsome wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My weary soul they seem to soothe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, redolent of joy and youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To breathe a second spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Say, Father Thames,&mdash;for thou hast seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full many a sprightly race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disporting on thy margent green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The paths of pleasure trace,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who foremost now delight to cleave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With pliant arm thy glassy wave?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The captive linnet which enthrall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What idle progeny succeed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To chase the rolling circle's speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or urge the flying ball?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">While some, on earnest business bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their murmuring labors ply<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sweeten liberty:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some bold adventurers disdain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The limits of their little reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And unknown regions dare descry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still as they run they look behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hear a voice in every wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And snatch a fearful joy.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 6632]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Less pleasing when possest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tear forgot as soon as shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sunshine of the breast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild wit, invention ever new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lively cheer, of vigor born;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thoughtless day, the easy night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spirits pure, the slumbers light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That fly th' approach of morn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alas! regardless of their doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little victims play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sense have they of ills to come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No care beyond to-day:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet see, how all around them wait<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ministers of human fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And black Misfortune's baleful train!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, show them where in ambush stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seize their prey, the murtherous band!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah! tell them they are men!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These shall the fury Passions tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The vultures of the mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Shame that skulks behind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or pining Love shall waste their youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That inly gnaws the secret heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Envy wan, and faded Care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Sorrow's piercing dart.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ambition this shall tempt to rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then whirl the wretch from high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And grinning Infamy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stings of Falsehood those shall try,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hard Unkindness's altered eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That mocks the tear it forced to flow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keen Remorse with blood defiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moody Madness laughing wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amid severest woe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo! in the vale of years beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A grisly troop are seen,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 6633]</a></span><span class="i0">The painful family of Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More hideous than their queen:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This racks the joints, this fires the veins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That every laboring sinew strains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those in the deeper vitals rage:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That numbs the soul with icy hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And slow-consuming Age.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To each his sufferings: all are men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Condemned alike to groan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tender for another's pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Th' unfeeling for his own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since sorrow never comes too late,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And happiness too swiftly flies?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thought would destroy their Paradise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more: where ignorance is bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis folly to be wise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_BARD" id="THE_BARD"></a>THE BARD</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">A Pindaric Ode</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Confusion on thy banners wait!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They mock the air with idle state.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He wound with toilsome march his long array.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">On a rock, whose haughty brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Robed in the sable garb of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With haggard eyes the poet stood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">(Loose his beard, and hoary hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air;)<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 6634]</a></span><span class="i1">And with a master's hand and prophet's fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That hushed the stormy main;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mountains, ye mourn in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Modred, whose magic song<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The famished eagle screams, and passes by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ye died amidst your dying country's cries.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No more I weep: they do not sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I see them sit; they linger yet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Avengers of their native land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With me in dreadful harmony they join,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The winding-sheet of Edward's race;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Give ample room, and verge enough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The characters of hell to trace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mark the year, and mark the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When Severn shall re-echo with affright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shrieks of an agonizing King!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.<br /></span>
+</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 6635]</a></span><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">"Mighty victor, mighty lord!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Low on his funeral couch he lies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">No pitying heart, no eye, afford<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A tear to grace his obsequies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Is the sable warrior fled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Gone to salute the rising morn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While proudly riding o'er the azure realm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">"Fill high the sparkling bowl!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">The rich repast prepare!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Close by the regal chair<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Fell Thirst and Famine scowl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Heard ye the din of battle bray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lance to lance, and horse to horse?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long years of havoc urge their destined course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With many a foul and midnight murder fed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And spare the meek usurper's holy head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Above, below, the rose of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The bristled boar in infant-gore<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wallows beneath the thorny shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">"Edward, lo! to sudden fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Half of thy heart we consecrate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">(The web is wove. The work is done.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In yon bright track that fires the western skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They melt, they vanish from my eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 6636]</a></span><span class="i1">But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"Girt with many a baron bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sublime their starry fronts they rear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And gorgeous dames and statesmen old<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In bearded majesty appear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the midst a form divine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her lion port, her awe-commanding face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Attempered sweet to virgin grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What strings symphonious tremble in the air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What strains of vocal transport round her play!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">"The verse adorn again<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Fierce war, and faithful love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In buskined measures move<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A voice, as of the cherub choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gales from blooming Eden bear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And distant warblings lessen on my ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That lost in long futurity expire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fond impious man, thinkest thou yon sanguine cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And warms the nations with redoubled ray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Enough for me; with joy I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The different doom our fates assign;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Be thine despair, and sceptred care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To triumph and to die are mine."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 6637]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_GREEK_ANTHOLOGY" id="THE_GREEK_ANTHOLOGY"></a>THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY</h2>
+
+<h4>BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;">
+<img src="images/capt.png" width="90" height="90" alt="T" title="T" />
+</div><p class="dropcap">he greater monuments of Greece all men know, the incomparable
+peaks of the chain; and the chain lasted seventeen
+hundred years, nor ever sank to the dead level about. The
+steadfast sight of these great Greek originals warps and dwarfs our
+conception of Greek life. We behold the Parthenon; we forget that
+each village shrine had its sense of proportion and subtle curve. The
+Venus of Melos we remember, and the Victory is poised forever on
+its cliff; but Tanagra figurines tell as much, and reveal more, of
+Greek life. Nor is it otherwise in letters. The great names all know.
+For a brief span they stood close together, and the father who heard
+&AElig;schylus might have told his experience to his long-lived son who
+read Aristotle, while between the two stood all the greatest genius
+that makes Greece Greek,&mdash;save only Homer. So brief was the
+noonday,&mdash;and it is at high noon, and high noon only, that men
+have agreed to take the sun; but this uplift was gained in the ascent
+of nigh two hundred years from the first written Greek literature
+that still lives. The descent, to the last of the Greek verse which
+still remained poetry, ran through thirteen centuries. Over all this
+prodigious span of fifteen hundred years stretches the Greek Anthology,
+a collection of 4,063 short Greek poems, two to eight lines long
+for the most part, collected and re-collected through more than a
+thousand years. The first of these poets, Mimnermus, was the contemporary
+of Jeremiah, and dwelt in cities that shuddered over tidings
+of Babylonian invasion. The last, Cometas, was the contemporary of
+Edward the Confessor, and dreaded Seljuk and Turk.</p>
+
+<p>As the epic impulse faded, and before Greek genius for tragedy
+rose, the same race and dialect which had given epic narrative the
+proud, full verse that filled like a sail to zephyr and to storm alike,
+devised the elegiac couplet. With its opening even flow, its swifter
+rush in the second line, and its abrupt pause, it was a medium in
+which not narrative but man spoke, whether personal in passion, or
+impersonal in the dedication of a statue, or in epitaph. This verse
+had conventions as rigorous and restrained as the sonnet, and was
+briefer. It served as well for the epitaph of Thermopyl&aelig; as for the
+cradle-bier of a child, dead new-born; and lent itself as gracefully to
+the gift of a bunch of roses as it swelled with some sonorous blast
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 6638]</a></span>
+of patriotism. It could sharpen to a gibe, or sink to a wail at untoward
+fate. Through a period twice as long as the life of English
+letters, these short poems set forth the vision of life, the ways and
+works of men, the love and death of mortals. These lines of weight,
+of moment, always of grace and often of inspiration, stood on milestones;
+they graced the base of statues; they were inscribed on
+tombs; they stood over doorways; they were painted on vases. The
+rustic shrines held them, and on the front of the great temple they
+were borne. In this form, friend wrote to friend and lover to lover.
+Four or five of the best express the emotion of the passing Greek
+traveler at the statue of Memnon on the Nile. The quality of verse
+that fills the inn album to-day we all know; but Greek life was so
+compact of form and thought that even this unknown traveler's
+verse, scrawled with a stylus, still thrills, still rings, as the statue
+still sounds its ancient note.</p>
+
+<p>In this long succession of short poems is delineated the Greek
+character, not of Athens but of the whole circle of the Mediterranean.
+The sphered life of the race is in its subjects. Each great
+Greek victory has its epigrams. In them, statues have an immortal
+life denied to marble and to bronze. The critical admiration of the
+Hellene for his great men of letters stands recorded here; his early
+love for the heroes of his brief-lived freedom, and his sedulous flattery
+of the Roman lords of his slavery. Here too is his domestic life,
+its joy and its sorrow. In this epigram, the maid dedicates her dolls
+to Artemis; and in that, the mother, mother and priestess both, lays
+down a life overflowing in good deeds and fruited with honorable
+offspring. The splendid side of Greek life is painted elsewhere. Here
+is its homely simplicity. The fisher again spreads his nets and the
+sailor his peaked lateen sail. The hunter sets his snares and tracks
+his game in the light snow. The caged partridge stretches its weary
+wings in its cage, and the cat has for it a modern appetite. Men
+gibe and jest. They see how hollow life is, and also how truth rings
+true. Love is here, sacred and revered, in forms pure and holy; and
+not less, that foul pool decked with beauty in which Greek manhood
+lost its masculine virtue.</p>
+
+<p>Half a century before Christ, when Greek life overspread the eastern
+Mediterranean, and in every market-place Greek was the tongue
+of trade, of learning, and of gentle breeding, Greek letters grew conscious
+of its own riches. For six centuries and more, or as long as
+separates us from Chaucer, men had been writing these brief epigrams.
+The first had the brevity of Simonides, the next Alexandrian
+luxuriance. Many were carved by those who wrote much; more by
+those who composed but two or three. In Syrian Gadara there dwelt
+a Greek, Meleager, whose poetry is the very flower of fervent Greek
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 6639]</a></span>
+verse. Yet so near did he live to the great change which was to
+overturn the gods he loved, and substitute morality for beauty as the
+mainspring of life, that some who knew him must also, a brief span
+of years later, have known Jesus the Christ. Meleager was the first
+who gathered Greek epigrams in an Anthology, prefacing it with
+such apt critical utterance as has been the despair of all critics called
+since to weigh verse in ruder scales and with a poise less perfect.
+He had the wide round of the best of Greek to pick from, and he
+chose with unerring taste. To his collection Philippus of Thessalonica,
+working when Paul was preaching in Jason's house, added the
+work of the Roman period, the fourth development of the epigram.
+Other collections between have perished, one in the third or Byzantine
+period, in which this verse had a renaissance under Justinian.
+In the tenth century a Byzantine scholar, Constantinos Cephalas,
+rearranged his predecessors' collections,&mdash;Meleager's included,&mdash;and
+brought together the largest number which has come down to us.
+The collection is known to-day as the 'Palatine Anthology,' from the
+library which long owned it. His work was in the last flare of life
+in the Lower Empire, when Greek heroism, for the last time, stemmed
+the Moslem tide and gave Eastern Europe breathing-space. When
+his successor Maximus Planudes, of the century of Petrarch,&mdash;monk,
+diplomat, theologian, and phrase-maker,&mdash;addressed himself to the
+last collection made, the shadow of new Italy lay over Greek life,
+and the Galilean had recast the minds of men. He excluded much
+that Greeks, from Meleager to Cephalas, had freely admitted, and
+which modern lovers of the Anthology would be willing to see left
+out of all copies but their own. The collection of Planudes long
+remained alone known (first edition Florence, 1594). That of Cephalas
+survived in a single manuscript of varied fortune, seen in 1606
+by Salmasius at eighteen,&mdash;happy boy, and happy manuscript!&mdash;lost
+to learning for a century and a half in the Vatican, published by
+Brunck, 1776, and finally edited by Frederic Jacobs, 1794-1803, five
+volumes of text and three of comment, usually bound in eight. The
+text has been republished by Tauchnitz, and the whole work has its
+most convenient and familiar form for scholars in the edition of both
+the collections of Planudes and Cephalas, with epigrams from all
+other sources prepared by Frederic D&uuml;bner for Didot's 'Bibliotheca
+Scriptorum Gr&aelig;corum,' 1864-1872, three volumes. The Anthology as
+a whole has no adequate English translation. About one-third of the
+poems have a prose translation by George Burges in the 'Greek
+Anthology,' 1832, of Bohn's series, with versions in verse by many
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>The first English translation of selections appeared anonymously,
+1791. Others have succeeded: Robert Bland and John Herman
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 6640]</a></span>
+Merivale, 1806; Robert Bland, 1813; Richard Garnett, 1864; Sir Edwin
+Arnold, 1869; John Addington Symonds, 1873; J.W. Mackail, 1890;
+Lilla Cabot Perry, 1891. A collection of selected translations edited
+by Graham R. Tomson was published in 1889. Of these partial versions,
+the only one which approaches the incommunicable charm of the
+original is Mr. Mackail's, an incomparable translation. His versions
+are freely used in the selections which follow. All the metrical versions,
+except those by Mrs. Perry, are from Miss Tomson's collection.
+But no translation equals the sanity, the brevity, the clarity of the
+Greek original, qualities which have made these epigrams consummate
+models of style to the modern world. In all the round of literature,
+the only exact analogue of the Greek epigram is the Japanese
+"ode," with its thirty syllables, its single idea, and its constant use of
+all classes as an universal medium of familiar poetic expression. Of
+like nature, used alike for epigraph, epitaph, and familiar personal
+expression, is the rhymed Arabic Makotta, brief poems written in one
+form for eighteen hundred years, and still written.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 537px;">
+<img src="images/sign420.png" width="358" height="61" alt="Talcott Williams" title="Talcott Williams" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>ON THE ATHENIAN DEAD AT PLAT&AElig;A</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Simonides</span> (556-467 B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>If to die nobly is the chief part of excellence, to us out of all
+men Fortune gave this lot; for hastening to set a crown
+of freedom on Greece, we lie possessed of praise that grows
+not old.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>ON THE LACED&AElig;MONIAN DEAD AT PLAT&AElig;A</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Simonides</span></h4>
+
+<p>These men, having set a crown of imperishable glory on their
+own land, were folded in the dark clouds of death; yet
+being dead they have not died, since from on high their
+excellence raises them gloriously out of the house of Hades.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 6641]</a></span></p>
+<h3>ON A SLEEPING SATYR</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Plato</span> (429-347 B. C.)</h4>
+
+<p>This satyr Diodorus engraved not, but laid to rest; your touch
+will wake him; the silver is asleep.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>A POET'S EPITAPH</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Simmias of Thebes</span> (405 B.C.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Quietly, o'er the tomb of Sophocles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quietly, ivy, creep with tendrils green;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And roses, ope your petals everywhere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While dewy shoots of grape-vine peep between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the wise and honeyed poet's grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom Muse and Grace their richest treasures gave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>WORSHIP IN SPRING</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The&aelig;tetus</span> (Fourth Century B. C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Now at her fruitful birth-tide the fair green field flowers out
+in blowing roses; now on the boughs of the colonnaded
+cypresses the cicala, mad with music, lulls the binder of
+sheaves; and the careful mother swallow, having finished houses
+under the eaves, gives harborage to her brood in the mud-plastered
+cells; and the sea slumbers, with zephyr-wooing calm
+spread clear over the broad ship-tracks, not breaking in squalls
+on the stemposts, not vomiting foam upon the beaches. O sailor,
+burn by the altars the glittering round of a mullet, or a cuttle-fish,
+or a vocal scarus, to Priapus, ruler of ocean and giver of
+anchorage; and so go fearlessly on thy seafaring to the bounds
+of the Ionian Sea.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 6642]</a></span></p>
+<h3>SPRING ON THE COAST</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Leonidas of Tarentum</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Now is the season of sailing; for already the chattering swallow
+is come, and the gracious west wind; the meadows flower,
+and the sea, tossed up with waves and rough blasts, has
+sunk to silence. Weigh thine anchors and unloose thine hawsers,
+O mariner, and sail with all thy canvas set: this I, Priapus of
+the harbor, bid thee, O man, that thou mayest set forth to all
+thy trafficking.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>A YOUNG HERO'S EPITAPH.</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dioscorides</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Home to Petana comes Thrasybulus lifeless on his shield, seven
+Argive wounds before. His bleeding boy the father Tynnichos
+lays on the pyre, to say:&mdash;"Let your wounds weep.
+Tearless I bury you, my boy&mdash;mine and my country's."</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Talcott Williams.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>LOVE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Posidippus</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Jar of Athens, drip the dewy juice of wine, drip, let the feast
+to which all bring their share be wetted as with dew; be
+silenced the swan-sage Zeno, and the Muse of Cleanthes, and
+let bitter-sweet Love be our concern.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>SORROW'S BARREN GRAVE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Heracleitus</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Keep off, keep off thy hand, O husbandman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor through this grave's calm dust thy plowshare drive;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These very sods have once been mourned upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on such ground no crop will ever thrive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor corn spring up with green and feathery ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From earth that has been watered by such tears.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 6643]</a></span></p>
+<h3>TO A COY MAIDEN</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Asclepiades</span> (286 B.C.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Believe me love, it is not good<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hoard a mortal maidenhood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Hades thou wilt never find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Maiden, a lover to thy mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love's for the living! presently<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ashes and dust in death are we!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Andrew Lang.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE EMPTIED QUIVER</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Mnesalcus</span> (Second Century B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>This bending bow and emptied quiver, Promachus hangs as a
+gift to thee, Phoebus. The swift shafts men's hearts hold,
+whom they called to death in the battle's rout.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Talcott Williams.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE TALE OF TROY</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Alpheus</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Still we hear the wail of Andromache, still we see all Troy
+toppling from her foundations, and the battling Ajax, and
+Hector, bound to the horses, dragged under the city's crown
+of towers,&mdash;through the Muse of M&aelig;onides, the poet with whom
+no one country adorns herself as her own, but the zones of both
+worlds.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>HEAVEN HATH ITS STARS</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Marcus Argentarius</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Feasting, I watch with westward-looking eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flashing constellations' pageantry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Solemn and splendid; then anon I wreathe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My hair, and warbling to my harp I breathe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My full heart forth, and know the heavens look down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleased, for they also have their Lyre and Crown.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Richard Garnett.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 6644]</a></span></p>
+<h3>PAN OF THE SEA-CLIFF</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Archias</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Me, Pan, the fishermen placed upon this holy cliff,&mdash;Pan of
+the sea-shore, the watcher here over the fair anchorages of
+the harbor: and I take care now of the baskets and again
+of the trawlers off this shore. But sail thou by, O stranger, and
+in requital of this good service of theirs I will send behind thee
+a gentle south wind.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>ANACREON'S GRAVE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Antipater of Sidon</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>O stranger who passeth by the humble tomb of Anacreon, if
+thou hast had aught of good from my books, pour libation
+on my ashes, pour libation of the jocund grape, that my
+bones may rejoice, wetted with wine; so I, who was ever deep in
+the wine-steeped revels of Dionysus, I who was bred among
+drinking-tunes, shall not even when dead endure without Bacchus
+this place to which the generation of mortals must come.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>REST AT NOON</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Meleager</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>Voiceful cricket, drunken with drops of dew, thou playest thy
+rustic music that murmurs in the solitude, and perched on
+the leaf edges shrillest thy lyre-tune with serrated legs and
+swart skin. But, my dear, utter a new song for the tree-nymphs'
+delight, and make thy harp-notes echo to Pan's, that escaping
+Love I may seek out sleep at noon, here, lying under the shady
+plane.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 6645]</a></span></p>
+<h3>"IN THE SPRING A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY"</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Meleager</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now the white iris blossoms, and the rain-loving narcissus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now again the lily, the mountain-roaming, blows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now too, the flower of lovers, the crown of all the springtime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Zenophila the winsome, doth blossom with the rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O meadows, wherefore vainly in your radiant garlands laugh ye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since fairer is the maiden than any flower that grows!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>MELEAGER'S OWN EPITAPH</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Meleager</span></h4>
+
+<p>Tread softly, O stranger; for here an old man sleeps among
+the holy dead, lulled in the slumber due to all; Meleager
+son of Eucrates, who united Love of the sweet tears and
+the Muses with the joyous Graces; whom god-begotten Tyre
+brought to manhood, and the sacred land of Gadara, but lovely
+Cos nursed in old age among the Meropes. But if thou art a
+Syrian, say "Salam," and if a Phoenician, "Naidios," and if a
+Greek, "Hail": they are the same.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>EPILOGUE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Philodemus</span> (60 B.C.)</h4>
+
+<p>I was in love once; who has not been? I have reveled; who is
+uninitiated in revels? Nay, I was mad; at whose prompting
+but a god's? Let them go; for now the silver hair is fast
+replacing the black, a messenger of wisdom that comes with age.
+We too played when the time of playing was; and now that it is
+no longer, we will turn to worthier thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>DOCTOR AND DIVINITY</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Nicarchus</span></h4>
+
+<p>Marcus the doctor called yesterday on the marble Zeus; though
+marble, and though Zeus, his funeral is to-day.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 6646]</a></span></p>
+<h3>LOVE'S IMMORTALITY</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Strato</span> (First Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>Who may know if a loved one passes the prime, while ever
+with him and never left alone? Who may not satisfy
+to-day who satisfied yesterday? and if he satisfy, what
+should befall him not to satisfy to-morrow?</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>AS THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Strato</span></h4>
+
+<p>If thou boast in thy beauty, know that the rose too blooms,
+but quickly being withered, is cast on the dunghill; for blossom
+and beauty have the same time allotted to them, and
+both together envious time withers away.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>SUMMER SAILING</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Antiphilus</span> (First Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>Mine be a mattress on the poop, and the awnings over it,
+sounding with the blows of the spray, and the fire forcing
+its way out of the hearthstones, and a pot upon them with
+empty turmoil of bubbles; and let me see the boy dressing the
+meat, and my table be a ship's plank covered with a cloth; and
+a game of pitch-and-toss, and the boatswain's whistle: the other
+day I had such fortune, for I love common life.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE GREAT MYSTERIES</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Crinagoras</span> (First Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>Though thy life be fixed in one seat, and thou sailest not the
+sea nor treadest the roads on dry land, yet by all means go
+to Attica, that thou mayest see those great nights of the
+worship of Demeter; whereby thou shalt possess thy soul without
+care among the living, and lighter when thou must go to the
+place that awaiteth all.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 6647]</a></span></p>
+<h3>TO PRIAPUS OF THE SHORE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">M&aelig;cius</span> (Roman period)</h4>
+
+<p>Priapus of the sea-shore, the trawlers lay before thee these gifts
+by the grace of thine aid from the promontory, having imprisoned
+a tunny shoal in their nets of spun hemp in the
+green sea entrances: a beechen cup, and a rude stool of heath,
+and a glass cup holding wine, that thou mayest rest thy foot,
+weary and cramped with dancing, while thou chasest away the
+dry thirst.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE COMMON LOT</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Ammianus</span> (Second Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>Though thou pass beyond thy landmarks even to the pillars of
+Heracles, the share of earth that is equal to all men awaits
+thee, and thou shalt lie even as Irus, having nothing more
+than thine obelus moldering into a land that at last is not thine.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>"TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW"</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Macedonius</span> (Third Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>"To-morrow I will look on thee,"&mdash;but that never comes for
+us, while the accustomed putting-off ever grows and grows.
+This is all thy grace to my longing; and to others thou
+bearest other gifts, despising my faithful service. "I will see
+thee at evening." And what is the evening of a woman's life?&mdash;old
+age, full of a million wrinkles.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE PALACE GARDEN</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Arabius</span> (527-567 A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>I am filled with waters, and gardens, and groves, and vineyards,
+and the joyousness of the bordering sea; and fisherman and
+farmer from different sides stretch forth to me the pleasant
+gifts of sea and land: and them who abide in me, either a bird
+singing or the sweet cry of the ferrymen lulls to rest.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 6648]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE YOUNG WIFE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Julianus &AElig;gyptius</span> (532 A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>In season the bride-chamber held thee, out of season the grave
+took thee, O Anastasia, flower of the blithe Graces; for thee
+a father, for thee a husband pours bitter tears; for thee haply
+even the ferryman of the dead weeps; for not a whole year didst
+thou accomplish beside thine husband, but at sixteen years old,
+alas! the tomb holds thee.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>A NAMELESS GRAVE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Paulus Silentiarius</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My name, my country, what are they to thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What, whether proud or bare my pedigree?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps I far surpassed all other men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps I fell below them all. What then?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suffice it, stranger, that thou seest a tomb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou knowest its use. It hides&mdash;no matter whom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of William Cowper.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>RESIGNATION</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Joannes Barbucallus</span> (Sixth Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>Gazing upon my husband as my last thread was spun, I praised
+the gods of death, and I praised the gods of marriage,&mdash;those,
+that I left my husband alive, and these, that he was
+even such an one; but may he remain, a father for our children.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE HOUSE OF THE RIGHTEOUS</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Macedonius</span> (Sixth Century A.D.)</h4>
+
+<p>Righteousness has raised this house from the first foundation
+even to the lofty roof; for Macedonius fashioned not his
+wealth by heaping up from the possessions of others with
+plundering sword, nor has any poor man here wept over his vain
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 6649]</a></span>
+and profitless toil, being robbed of his most just hire; and as rest
+from labor is kept inviolate by the just man, so let the works of
+pious mortals endure.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>LOVE'S FERRIAGE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Agathias</span> (527-565 A.D.)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since she was watched and could not kiss me closely,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Divine Rhodanthe cast her maiden zone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From off her waist, and holding it thus loosely<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the one end, she put a kiss thereon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I&mdash;Love's stream as through a channel taking&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My lips upon the other end did press<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drew the kisses in, while ceaseless making,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus from afar, reply to her caress.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So the sweet girdle did beguile our pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Being a ferry for our kisses twain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="center">[The following are undetermined in date.]</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h3>ON A FOWLER</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Isidorus</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With reeds and bird-lime from the desert air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eumelus gathered free though scanty fare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor luxury knew, save liberty, nor bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrice thirty years he lived, and to his heirs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His reeds bequeathed, his bird-lime, and his snares.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of William Cowper.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>YOUTH AND RICHES</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>I was young, but poor; now in old age I am rich: alas, alone of
+all men pitiable in both, who then could enjoy when I had
+nothing, and now have when I cannot enjoy.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 6650]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE SINGING REED</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>I the reed was a useless plant; for out of me grow not figs,
+nor apple, nor grape cluster: but man consecrated me a
+daughter of Helicon, piercing my delicate lips and making
+me the channel of a narrow stream; and thenceforth whenever I
+sip black drink, like one inspired I speak all words with this
+voiceless mouth.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>FIRST LOVE AGAIN REMEMBERED</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">While yet the grapes were green thou didst refuse me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When they were ripe, didst proudly pass me by:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But do not grudge me still a single cluster,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now that the grapes are withering and dry.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>SLAVE AND PHILOSOPHER</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I Epictetus was a slave while here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deformed in body, and like Irus poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet to the gods immortal I was dear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of Lilla Cabot Perry, by permission of the American Publishers'
+Corporation.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>GOOD-BY TO CHILDHOOD</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>Her tambourines and pretty ball, and the net that confined her
+hair, and her dolls and dolls' dresses, Timareta dedicates
+before her marriage to Artemis of Limn&aelig;,&mdash;a maiden to a
+maiden, as is fit; do thou, daughter of Leto, laying thine hand
+over the girl Timareta, preserve her purely in her purity.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 6651]</a></span></p>
+<h3>WISHING</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's oh! to be a wild wind, when my lady's in the sun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She'd just unbind her neckerchief, and take me breathing in.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's oh! to be a red rose, just a faintly blushing one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So she'd pull me with her hand, and to her snowy breast I'd win.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of William M. Hardinge.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>HOPE AND EXPERIENCE</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>Whoso has married once and seeks a second wedding, is
+a shipwrecked man who sails twice through a difficult
+gulf.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE SERVICE OF GOD</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>Me, Chelidon, priestess of Zeus, who knew well in old age
+how to make offering on the altars of the immortals,
+happy in my children, free from grief, the tomb holds;
+for with no shadow in their eyes the gods saw my piety.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE PURE IN HEART</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>He who enters the incense-filled temple must be holy; and
+holiness is to have a pure mind.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 6652]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE WATER OF PURITY</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>Hallowed in soul, O stranger, come even into the precinct of
+a pure god, touching thyself with the virgin water: for the
+good a few drops are set; but a wicked man the whole
+ocean cannot wash in its waters.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>ROSE AND THORN</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>The rose is at her prime a little while; which once past, thou
+wilt find when thou seekest, no rose, but a thorn.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>A LIFE'S WANDERING</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4>
+
+<p>Know ye the flowery fields of the Cappadocian nation? Thence
+I was born of good parents: since I left them I have wandered
+to the sunset and the dawn; my name was Glaphyrus,
+and like my mind. I lived out my sixtieth year in perfect
+freedom; I know both the favor of fortune and the bitterness
+of life.</p>
+
+<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<div class="footnotes">
+<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3>
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a>
+The story of King Lear and his three daughters.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_2" id="Footnote_A_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a>
+The story of the three caskets in 'The Merchant of Venice.'</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_3" id="Footnote_A_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a>
+Five hundred and thirty-seven miles from Seleucia, two hundred and
+three from the nearest coast of Syria, according to Pliny.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_4" id="Footnote_A_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Potter [detests] potter.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_5" id="Footnote_A_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> "Whoever sees God must die."</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_6" id="Footnote_A_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Obl&oacute;mof is the genitive plural of the word obl&oacute;m or obl&aacute;m, a term expressive
+of anything broken or almost useless, or even bad; a rude, awkward,
+unfinished man.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+
+<h2>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h2>
+
+<p>1. Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest
+paragraph break. And footnotes have been moved to the end of the text
+in this html version.</p>
+
+<p>2. Some selections for Richard Watson Gilder are different from those mentioned
+in the Table of Contents.</p>
+
+<p>3. The frontispiece "The Alexander Romance" and the photogravure "The Bride's Toilet"
+mentioned in the "Full-Page Illustrations" list are missing from this html version.</p>
+
+<p>4. The original text includes Greek characters. For this html version
+these letters have been replaced with transliterations.</p>
+
+<p>5. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies
+in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been
+retained.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library of the World's Best
+Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 ***
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,18039 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Library of the World's Best Literature,
+Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles Dudley Warner
+
+Release Date: September 3, 2010 [EBook #33624]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            LIBRARY OF THE
+                       WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE
+                          ANCIENT AND MODERN
+
+
+                        CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
+
+                                EDITOR
+
+
+            HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE    LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE
+                         GEORGE HENRY WARNER
+
+                          ASSOCIATE EDITORS
+
+
+                         Connoisseur Edition
+
+                              VOL. XVI.
+
+
+                               NEW YORK
+                      THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY
+
+
+
+
+                         Connoisseur Edition
+
+            LIMITED TO FIVE HUNDRED COPIES IN HALF RUSSIA
+
+                         _No_.    ..........
+
+
+                         Copyright, 1896, by
+                      R. S. PEALE AND J. A. HILL
+                        _All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+                         THE ADVISORY COUNCIL
+
+
+  CRAWFORD H. TOY, A. M., LL. D.,
+    Professor of Hebrew,        HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Cambridge, Mass.
+
+  THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL. D., L. H. D.,
+    Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School of
+                                   YALE UNIVERSITY, New Haven, Conn.
+
+  WILLIAM M. SLOANE, PH. D., L. H. D.,
+    Professor of History and Political Science,
+                              PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, Princeton, N. J.
+
+  BRANDER MATTHEWS, A. M., LL. B.,
+    Professor of Literature,     COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, New York City.
+
+  JAMES B. ANGELL, LL. D.,
+    President of the        UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN, Ann Arbor, Mich.
+
+  WILLARD FISKE, A. M., PH. D.,
+    Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages
+    and Literatures,               CORNELL UNIVERSITY, Ithaca, N. Y.
+
+  EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A. M., LL. D.,
+    Director of the Lick Observatory, and Astronomer,
+                            UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, Berkeley, Cal.
+
+  ALCEE FORTIER, LIT. D.,
+    Professor of the Romance Languages,
+                                 TULANE UNIVERSITY, New Orleans, La.
+
+  WILLIAM P. TRENT, M. A.,
+    Dean of the Department of Arts and Sciences, and Professor of
+    English and History,     UNIVERSITY OF THE SOUTH, Sewanee, Tenn.
+
+  PAUL SHOREY, PH. D.,
+    Professor of Greek and Latin Literature,
+                                UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, Chicago, Ill.
+
+  WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL. D.,
+    United States Commissioner of Education,
+                              BUREAU OF EDUCATION, Washington, D. C.
+
+  MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A. M., LL. D.,
+    Professor of Literature in the
+                   CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA, Washington, D. C.
+
+
+
+
+                          TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+                               VOL. XVI
+
+
+                                                    LIVED       PAGE
+  AULUS GELLIUS                         Second Century A.D.     6253
+    From 'Attic Nights': Origin, and Plan of the Book;
+          The Vestal Virgins; The Secrets of the Senate;
+          Plutarch and his Slave; Discussion on One of
+          Solon's Laws; The Nature of Sight; Earliest
+          Libraries; Realistic Acting; The Athlete's End
+
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM                                               6261
+    Theodosius the Emperoure
+    Moralite
+    Ancelmus the Emperour
+    Moralite
+    How an Anchoress was Tempted by the Devil
+
+
+  EDWARD GIBBON                                   1737-1794     6271
+                           BY W. E. H. LECKY
+    Zenobia
+    Foundation of Constantinople
+    Character of Constantine
+    Death of Julian
+    Fall of Rome
+    Silk
+    Mahomet's Death and Character
+    The Alexandrian Library
+    Final Ruin of Rome
+      All from the 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'
+
+
+  WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT                        1836-         6333
+    Captain Reece
+    The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
+    The Bishop of Rum-ti-foo
+    Gentle Alice Brown
+    The Captain and the Mermaids
+      All from the 'Bab Ballads'
+
+
+  RICHARD WATSON GILDER                           1844-         6347
+    Two Songs from 'The New Day'
+    "Rose-Dark the Solemn Sunset"
+    The Celestial Passion
+    Non Sine Dolore
+    On the Life Mask of Abraham Lincoln
+    From 'The Great Remembrance'
+
+
+  GIUSEPPE GIUSTI                                 1809-1850     6355
+    Lullaby ('Gingillino')
+    The Steam Guillotine
+
+
+  WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE                         1809-         6359
+    Macaulay ('Gleanings of Past Years')
+
+
+  EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN                           1831-         6373
+    The Duty of Criticism in a Democracy ('Problems of
+          Modern Democracy')
+
+
+  GOETHE                                          1749-1832     6385
+                           BY EDWARD DOWDEN
+    From 'Faust,' Shelley's Translation
+    Scenes from 'Faust', Bayard Taylor's Translation
+    Mignon's Love and Longing ('Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship')
+    Wilhelm Meister's Introduction to Shakespeare (same)
+    Wilhelm Meister's Analysis of Hamlet (same)
+    The Indenture (same)
+    The Harper's Songs (same)
+    Mignon's Song (same)
+    Philina's Song (same)
+    Prometheus
+    Wanderer's Night Songs
+    The Elfin-King
+    From 'The Wanderer's Storm Song'
+    The Godlike
+    Solitude
+    Ergo Bibamus!
+    Alexis and Dora
+    Maxims and Reflections
+    Nature
+
+
+  NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL                      1809-1852     6455
+                         BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD
+    From 'The Inspector'
+    Old-Fashioned Gentry ('Mirgorod')
+
+
+  CARLO GOLDONI                                   1707-1793     6475
+                      BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON
+    First Love and Parting ('Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni')
+    The Origin of Masks in the Italian Comedy (same)
+    Purists and Pedantry (same)
+    A Poet's Old Age (same)
+    The Cafe
+
+
+  MEIR AARON GOLDSCHMIDT                          1819-1887     6493
+    Assar and Mirjam ('Love Stories from Many Countries')
+
+
+  OLIVER GOLDSMITH                                1728-1774     6501
+                        BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY
+    The Vicar's Family Become Ambitious ('The Vicar of Wakefield')
+    New Misfortunes: But Offenses are Easily Pardoned Where
+          There is Love at Bottom (same)
+    Pictures from 'The Deserted Village'
+    Contrasted National Types ('The Traveller')
+
+
+  IVAN ALEKSANDROVITCH GONCHAROF                  1812-         6533
+                        BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
+    Oblomof
+
+
+  THE BROTHERS DE GONCOURT                                      6549
+               Edmond                             1822-1896
+               Jules                              1830-1870
+    Two Famous Men ('Journal of the De Goncourts')
+    The Suicide ('Sister Philomene')
+    The Awakening ('Renee Mauperin')
+
+
+  EDMUND GOSSE                                    1849-         6565
+    February in Rome
+    Desiderium
+    Lying in the Grass
+
+
+  RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL                           1823-         6571
+    Heinrich Heine ('Portraits and Studies')
+
+
+  JOHN GOWER                                      1325?-1408    6579
+    Petronella ('Confessio Amantis')
+
+
+  ULYSSES S. GRANT                                1822-1885     6593
+                           BY HAMLIN GARLAND
+    Early Life ('Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant')
+    Grant's Courtship (same)
+    A Texan Experience (same)
+    The Surrender of General Lee (same)
+
+
+  HENRY GRATTAN                                   1746-1820     6615
+    On the Character of Chatham
+    Of the Injustice of Disqualification of Catholics
+          (Speech in Parliament)
+    On the Downfall of Bonaparte (Speech in Parliament)
+
+
+  THOMAS GRAY                                     1716-1771     6623
+                       BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
+    Elegy Written in a Country Church-yard
+    Ode on the Spring
+    On a Distant Prospect of Eton College
+    The Bard
+
+
+  THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY                                           6637
+                          BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS
+    On the Athenian Dead at Plataea (Simonides); On the
+         Lacedaemonian Dead at Plataea (Simonides); On a
+         Sleeping Satyr (Plato); A Poet's Epitaph (Simmias
+         of Thebes); Worship in Spring (Theaetetus); Spring
+         on the Coast (Leonidas of Tarentum); A Young Hero's
+         Epitaph (Dioscorides); Love (Posidippus); Sorrow's
+         Barren Grave (Heracleitus); To a Coy Maiden
+         (Asclepiades); The Emptied Quiver (Mnesalcus);
+         The Tale of Troy (Alpheus); Heaven Hath its Stars
+         (Marcus Argentarius); Pan of the Sea-Cliff
+         (Archias); Anacreon's Grave (Antipater of Sidon);
+         Rest at Noon (Meleager); "In the Spring a Young
+         Man's Fancy" (Meleager); Meleager's Own Epitaph
+         (Meleager); Epilogue (Philodemus); Doctor and
+         Divinity (Nicarchus); Love's Immortality (Strato);
+         As the Flowers of the Field (Strato); Summer
+         Sailing (Antiphilus); The Great Mysteries
+         (Crinagoras); To Priapus of the Shore (Maecius); The
+         Common Lot (Ammianus); "To-morrow, and To-morrow"
+         (Macedonius); The Palace Garden (Arabius); The
+         Young Wife (Julianus AEgyptius); A Nameless Grave
+         (Paulus Silentiarius); Resignation (Joannes
+         Barbucallus); The House of the Righteous
+         (Macedonius); Love's Ferriage (Agathias); On a
+         Fowler (Isidorus) Anonymous: Youth and Riches; The
+         Singing Reed; First Love again Remembered; Slave
+         and Philosopher; Good-by to Childhood; Wishing;
+         Hope and Experience; The Service of God; The Pure
+         in Heart; The Water of Purity; Rose and Thorn;
+         A Life's Wandering
+
+
+
+
+                       FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                              VOLUME XVI
+
+                                                                PAGE
+  The Alexander Romance (Colored Plate)                 Frontispiece
+  Gibbon (Portrait)                                             6271
+  Ruined Rome (Photograph)                                      6316
+  Gladstone (Portrait)                                          6359
+  Goethe (Portrait)                                             6385
+  "Faust and Margaret in Prison" (Photogravure)                 6408
+  "The Bride's Toilet" (Photogravure)                           6466
+  Goldoni (Portrait)                                            6475
+  Goldsmith (Portrait)                                          6501
+  Grant (Portrait)                                              6593
+  Gray (Portrait)                                               6623
+  "Stoke Poges Church and Churchyard" (Photogravure)            6626
+
+
+                          VIGNETTE PORTRAITS
+
+  Gilbert                               Goncharof
+  Gilder                                De Goncourt
+  Giusti                                Gottschall
+  Godkin                                Gower
+  Gogol                                 Grattan
+  Goldschmidt
+
+
+
+
+AULUS GELLIUS
+
+(SECOND CENTURY A. D.)
+
+
+Perhaps Gellius's 'Attic Nights' may claim especial mention here, as one
+of the earliest extant forerunners of this 'Library.' In the original
+preface (given first among the citations), Gellius explains very clearly
+the origin and scope of his work. It is not, however, a mere scrap-book.
+There is original matter in many chapters. In particular, an ethical or
+philosophic excerpt has often been framed in a little scene,--doubtless
+imaginary,--and cast in the form of a dialogue. We get, even, pleasant
+glimpses of autobiography from time to time. The author is not, however,
+a deep or forceful character, on the whole. His heart is mostly set on
+trifles.
+
+Yet Gellius has been an assiduous student, both in Greece and Italy; and
+his book gives us an agreeable, probably an adequate, view of the fields
+which are included in the general culture of his time. Despite its
+title, the work is chiefly Roman. In history, biography, antiquities,
+grammar, literary criticism, his materials and authors are prevailingly
+Latin. He is perhaps most widely known and quoted on early Roman life
+and usages. Thus, one of his chapters gives a mass of curious
+information as to the choice of the Vestal Virgins. We are also largely
+indebted to him for citations from lost authors. We have already quoted
+under Ennius the sketch, in eighteen hexameters, of a scholar-soldier,
+believed to be a genial self-portraiture. These lines are the finest
+specimen we have of the 'Annales.' Similarly, under Cato, we have quoted
+the chief fragment of the great Censor's Roman history. For both these
+treasures we must thank Gellius. Indeed, throughout the wide fields of
+Roman antiquities, history of literature, grammar, etc., we have to
+depend chiefly upon various late Latin scrap-books and compilations,
+most of which are not even made up at first hand from creative classical
+authors. To Gellius, also, the imposing array of writers so constantly
+named by him was evidently known chiefly through compendiums and
+handbooks. It is suspicious, for instance, that he hardly quotes a poet
+within a century of his own time. Repetitions, contradictions, etc., are
+numerous.
+
+Despite its twenty "books" and nearly four hundred (short) chapters, the
+work is not only light and readable for the most part, but quite modest
+in total bulk: five hundred and fifty pages in the small page and
+generous type of Hertz's Teubner text. There is an English translation
+by Rev. W. Beloe, first printed in 1795, from which we quote below.
+Professor Nettleship's (in his 'Essays in Latin Literature') has no
+literary quality, but gives a careful analysis of Gellius's subjects and
+probable sources. There is a revival of interest in this author in
+recent years. We decidedly recommend Hertz's attractive volume to any
+Latin student who wishes to browse beyond the narrow classical limits.
+
+
+
+FROM 'ATTIC NIGHTS'
+
+
+ORIGIN AND PLAN OF THE BOOK
+
+More pleasing works than the present may certainly be found: my object
+in writing this was to provide my children, as well as myself, with that
+kind of amusement in which they might properly relax and indulge
+themselves at the intervals from more important business. I have
+preserved the same accidental arrangement which I had before used in
+making the collection. Whatever book came into my hand, whether it was
+Greek or Latin, or whatever I heard that was either worthy of being
+recorded or agreeable to my fancy, I wrote down without distinction and
+without order. These things I treasured up to aid my memory, as it were
+by a store-house of learning; so that when I wanted to refer to any
+particular circumstance or word which I had at the moment forgotten, and
+the books from which they were taken happened not to be at hand, I could
+easily find and apply it. Thus the same irregularity will appear in
+these commentaries as existed in the original annotations, which were
+concisely written down without any method or arrangement in the course
+of what I at different times had heard or read. As these observations at
+first constituted my business and my amusement through many long winter
+nights which I spent in Attica, I have given them the name of 'Attic
+Nights.' ... It is an old proverb, "A jay has no concern with music, nor
+a hog with perfumes:" but that the ill-humor and invidiousness of
+certain ill-taught people may be still more exasperated, I shall borrow
+a few verses from a chorus of Aristophanes; and what he, a man of most
+exquisite humor, proposed as a law to the spectators of his play, I also
+recommend to the readers of this volume, that the vulgar and unhallowed
+herd, who are averse to the sports of the Muses, may not touch nor even
+approach it. The verses are these:--
+
+  Silent be they, and far from hence remove,
+  By scenes like ours not likely to improve,
+  Who never paid the honored Muse her rights,
+  Who senseless live in wild, impure delights;
+  I bid them once, I bid them twice begone,
+  I bid them thrice, in still a louder tone:
+  Far hence depart, whilst ye with dance and song
+  Our solemn feast, our tuneful nights prolong.
+
+
+THE VESTAL VIRGINS
+
+The writers on the subject of taking a Vestal Virgin, of whom Labeo
+Antistius is the most elaborate, have asserted that no one could be
+taken who was less than six or more than ten years old. Neither could
+she be taken unless both her father and mother were alive, if she had
+any defect of voice or hearing, or indeed any personal blemish, or if
+she herself or father had been made free; or if under the protection of
+her grandfather, her father being alive; if one or both of her parents
+were in actual servitude, or employed in mean occupations. She whose
+sister was in this character might plead exemption, as might she whose
+father was flamen, augur, one of the fifteen who had care of the sacred
+books, or one of the seventeen who regulated the sacred feasts, or a
+priest of Mars. Exemption was also granted to her who was betrothed to a
+pontiff, and to the daughter of the sacred trumpeter. Capito Ateius has
+also observed that the daughter of a man was ineligible who had no
+establishment in Italy, and that his daughter might be excused who had
+three children. But as soon as a Vestal Virgin is taken, conducted to
+the vestibule of Vesta, and delivered to the pontiffs, she is from that
+moment removed from her father's authority, without any form of
+emancipation or loss of rank, and has also the right of making her will.
+No more ancient records remain concerning the form and ceremony of
+taking a virgin, except that the first virgin was taken by King Numa.
+But we find a Papian law which provides that at the will of the supreme
+pontiff twenty virgins should be chosen from the people; that these
+should draw lots in the public assembly; and that the supreme pontiff
+might take her whose lot it was, to become the servant of Vesta. But
+this drawing of lots by the Papian law does not now seem necessary; for
+if any person of ingenuous birth goes to the pontiff and offers his
+daughter for this ministry, if she may be accepted without any violation
+of what the ceremonies of religion enjoin, the Senate dispenses with the
+Papian law. Moreover, a virgin is said to be taken, because she is taken
+by the hand of the high priest from that parent under whose authority
+she is, and led away as a captive in war. In the first book of Fabius
+Pictor, we have the form of words which the supreme pontiff is to repeat
+when he takes a virgin. It is this:--
+
+"I take thee, beloved, as a priestess of Vesta, to perform religious
+service, to discharge those duties with respect to the whole body of the
+Roman people which the law most wisely requires of a priestess of
+Vesta."
+
+It is also said in those commentaries of Labeo which he wrote on the
+Twelve Tables:--
+
+"No Vestal Virgin can be heiress to any intestate person of either sex.
+Such effects are said to belong to the public. It is inquired by what
+right this is done?" When taken she is called _amata_, or beloved, by
+the high priest; because Amata is said to have been the name of her who
+was first taken.
+
+
+THE SECRETS OF THE SENATE
+
+It was formerly usual for the senators of Rome to enter the Senate-house
+accompanied by their sons who had taken the praetexta. When something of
+superior importance was discussed in the Senate, and the further
+consideration adjourned to the day following, it was resolved that no
+one should divulge the subject of their debates till it should be
+formally decreed. The mother of the young Papirius, who had accompanied
+his father to the Senate-house, inquired of her son what the senators
+had been doing. The youth replied that he had been enjoined silence, and
+was not at liberty to say. The woman became more anxious to know; the
+secretness of the thing, and the silence of the youth, did but inflame
+her curiosity. She therefore urged him with more vehement earnestness.
+The young man, on the importunity of his mother, determined on a
+humorous and pleasant fallacy: he said it was discussed in the Senate,
+which would be most beneficial to the State--for one man to have two
+wives, or for one woman to have two husbands. As soon as she heard this
+she was much agitated, and leaving her house in great trepidation, went
+to tell the other matrons what she had learned. The next day a troop of
+matrons went to the Senate-house, and with tears and entreaties implored
+that one woman might be suffered to have two husbands, rather than one
+man to have two wives. The senators on entering the house were
+astonished, and wondered what this intemperate proceeding of the women,
+and their petition, could mean. The young Papirius, advancing to the
+midst of the Senate, explained the pressing importunity of his mother,
+his answer, and the matter as it was. The Senate, delighted with the
+honor and ingenuity of the youth, made a decree that from that time no
+youth should be suffered to enter the Senate with his father, this
+Papirius alone excepted.
+
+
+PLUTARCH AND HIS SLAVE
+
+Plutarch once ordered a slave, who was an impudent and worthless fellow,
+but who had paid some attention to books and philosophical disputations,
+to be stripped (I know not for what fault) and whipped. As soon as his
+punishment began, he averred that he did not deserve to be beaten; that
+he had been guilty of no offense or crime. As they went on whipping him,
+he called out louder, not with any cry of suffering or complaint, but
+gravely reproaching his master. Such behavior, he said, was unworthy of
+Plutarch; that anger disgraced a philosopher; that he had often disputed
+on the mischiefs of anger; that he had written a very excellent book
+about not giving place to anger; but that whatever he had said in that
+book was now contradicted by the furious and ungovernable anger with
+which he had now ordered him to be severely beaten. Plutarch then
+replied with deliberate calmness:--"But why, rascal, do I now seem to
+you to be in anger? Is it from my countenance, my voice, my color, or my
+words, that you conceive me to be angry? I cannot think that my eyes
+betray any ferocity, nor is my countenance disturbed or my voice
+boisterous; neither do I foam at the mouth, nor are my cheeks red; nor
+do I say anything indecent or to be repented of; nor do I tremble or
+seem greatly agitated. These, though you may not know it, are the usual
+signs of anger." Then, turning to the person who was whipping him:
+"Whilst this man and I," said he, "are disputing, do you go on with your
+employment."
+
+
+DISCUSSION ON ONE OF SOLON'S LAWS
+
+In those very ancient laws of Solon which were inscribed at Athens on
+wooden tables, and which, from veneration to him, the Athenians, to
+render eternal, had sanctioned with punishments and religious oaths,
+Aristotle relates there was one to this effect: If in any tumultuous
+dissension a sedition should ensue, and the people divide themselves
+into two parties, and from this irritation of their minds both sides
+should take arms and fight; then he who in this unfortunate period of
+civil discord should join himself to neither party, but should
+individually withdraw himself from the common calamity of the city,
+should be deprived of his house, his family and fortunes, and be driven
+into exile from his country. When I had read this law of Solon, who was
+eminent for his wisdom, I was at first impressed with great
+astonishment, wondering for what reason he should think those men
+deserving of punishment who withdrew themselves from sedition and a
+civil war. Then a person who had profoundly and carefully examined the
+use and purport of this law, affirmed that it was calculated not to
+increase but terminate sedition; and indeed it really is so, for if all
+the more respectable, who were at first unable to check sedition, and
+could not overawe the divided and infatuated people, join themselves to
+one part or other, it will happen that when they are divided on both
+sides, and each party begins to be ruled and moderated by them, as men
+of superior influence, harmony will by their means be sooner restored
+and confirmed; for whilst they regulate and temper their own parties
+respectively, they would rather see their opponents conciliated than
+destroyed. Favorinus the philosopher was of opinion that the same thing
+ought to be done in the disputes of brothers and of friends: that they
+who are benevolently inclined to both sides, but have little influence
+in restoring harmony, from being considered as doubtful friends, should
+decidedly take one part or other; by which act they will obtain more
+effectual power in restoring harmony to both. At present, says he, the
+friends of both think they do well by leaving and deserting both, thus
+giving them up to malignant or sordid lawyers, who inflame their
+resentments and disputes from animosity or from avarice.
+
+
+THE NATURE OF SIGHT
+
+I have remarked various opinions among philosophers concerning the
+causes of sight and the nature of vision. The Stoics affirm the causes
+of sight to be an emission of radii from the eyes against those things
+which are capable of being seen, with an expansion at the same time of
+the air. But Epicurus thinks that there proceed from all bodies certain
+images of the bodies themselves, and that these impress themselves upon
+the eyes, and that thence arises the sense of sight. Plato is of opinion
+that a species of fire and light issues from the eyes, and that this,
+being united and continued either with the light of the sun or the light
+of some other fire, by its own, added to the external force, enables us
+to see whatever it meets and illuminates.
+
+But on these things it is not worth while to trifle further; and I recur
+to an opinion of the Neoptolemus of Ennius, whom I have before
+mentioned: he thinks that we should taste of philosophy, but not plunge
+in it over head and ears.
+
+
+EARLIEST LIBRARIES
+
+Pisistratus the tyrant is said to have been the first who supplied books
+of the liberal sciences at Athens for public use. Afterwards the
+Athenians themselves with great care and pains increased their number;
+but all this multitude of books, Xerxes, when he obtained possession of
+Athens and burned the whole of the city except the citadel, seized and
+carried away to Persia. But King Seleucus, who was called Nicanor, many
+years afterwards, was careful that all of them should be again carried
+back to Athens.
+
+A prodigious number of books were in succeeding times collected by the
+Ptolemies in Egypt, to the amount of near seven hundred thousand
+volumes. But in the first Alexandrine war the whole library, during the
+plunder of the city, was destroyed by fire; not by any concerted design,
+but accidentally by the auxiliary soldiers.
+
+
+REALISTIC ACTING
+
+There was an actor in Greece of great celebrity, superior to the rest in
+the grace and harmony of his voice and action. His name, it is said, was
+Polus, and he acted in the tragedies of the more eminent poets, with
+great knowledge and accuracy. This Polus lost by death his only and
+beloved son. When he had sufficiently indulged his natural grief, he
+returned to his employment. Being at this time to act the 'Electra' of
+Sophocles at Athens, it was his part to carry an urn as containing the
+bones of Orestes. The argument of the fable is so imagined that Electra,
+who is presumed to carry the relics of her brother, laments and
+commiserates his end, who is believed to have died a violent death.
+Polus, therefore, clad in the mourning habit of Electra, took from the
+tomb the bones and urn of his son, and as if embracing Orestes, filled
+the place, not with the image and imitation, but with the sighs and
+lamentations of unfeigned sorrow. Therefore, when a fable seemed to be
+represented, real grief was displayed.
+
+
+THE ATHLETE'S END
+
+Milo of Crotona, a celebrated wrestler, who as is recorded was crowned
+in the fiftieth Olympiad, met with a lamentable and extraordinary death.
+When, now an old man, he had desisted from his athletic art and was
+journeying alone in the woody parts of Italy, he saw an oak very near
+the roadside, gaping in the middle of the trunk, with its branches
+extended: willing, I suppose, to try what strength he had left, he put
+his fingers into the fissure of the tree, and attempted to pluck aside
+and separate the oak, and did actually tear and divide it in the middle;
+but when the oak was thus split in two, and he relaxed his hold as
+having accomplished his intention, upon a cessation of the force it
+returned to its natural position, and left the man, when it united, with
+his hands confined, to be torn by wild beasts.
+
+                                       Translation of Rev. W. Beloe.
+
+
+
+
+GESTA ROMANORUM
+
+
+What are the 'Gesta Romanorum'? The most curious and interesting of all
+collections of popular tales. Negatively, one thing they are not: that
+is, they are not _Deeds of the Romans_, the acts of the heirs of the
+Caesars. All such allusions are the purest fantasy. The great "citee of
+Rome," and some oddly dubbed emperor thereof, indeed the entire
+background, are in truth as unhistorical and imaginary as the tale
+itself.
+
+Such stories are very old. So far back did they spring that it would be
+idle to conjecture their origin. In the centuries long before Caxton,
+the centuries before manuscript-writing filled up the leisure hours of
+the monks, the 'Gesta,' both in the Orient and in the Occident, were
+brought forth. Plain, direct, and unvarnished, they are the form in
+which the men of ideas of those rude times approached and entertained,
+by accounts of human joy and woe, their brother men of action. Every
+race of historic importance, from the eastern Turanians to the western
+Celts, has produced such legends. Sometimes they delight the lover of
+folk-lore; sometimes they belong to the Dryasdust antiquarian. But our
+'Gesta,' with their directness and naivete, with their occasional beauty
+of diction and fine touches of sympathy and imagination,--even with
+their Northern lack of grace,--are properly a part of literature. In
+these 'Deeds' is found the plot or ground-plan of such master works as
+'King Lear' and the 'Merchant of Venice,' and the first cast of material
+refined by Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate, Schiller, and other writers.
+
+Among the people in mediaeval times such tales evidently passed from
+mouth to mouth. They were the common food of fancy and delight to our
+forefathers, as they gathered round the fire in stormy weather. Their
+recital enlivened the women's unnumbered hours of spinning, weaving, and
+embroidery. As the short days of the year came on, there must have been
+calls for 'The Knights of Baldak and Lombardy,' 'The Three Caskets,' or
+'The White and Black Daughters,' as nowadays we go to our book-shelves
+for the stories that the race still loves, and ungraciously enjoy the
+silent telling.
+
+Such folk-stories as those in the 'Gesta' are in the main made of, must
+have passed from district to district and even from nation to nation, by
+many channels,--chief among them the constant wanderings of monks and
+minstrels,--becoming the common heritage of many peoples, and passing
+from secular to sacerdotal use. The mediaeval Church, with the acuteness
+that characterized it, seized on the pretty tales, and adding to them
+the moralizing which a crude system of ethics enjoined, carried its
+spoils to the pulpit. Even the fables of pagan AEsop were thus employed.
+
+In the twelfth century the ecclesiastical forces were appropriating to
+their use whatever secular rights and possessions came within their
+grasp. A common ardor permitted and sustained this aggrandizement, and
+the devotion that founded and swelled the mendicant orders of Francis
+and Dominic, and led the populace to carry with prayers and
+psalm-singing the stones of which great cathedrals were built, readily
+gave their hearth-tales to illustrate texts and inculcate doctrines. A
+habit of interpreting moral and religious precepts by allegory led to
+the far-fetched, sometimes droll, and always naive "moralities" which
+commonly follow each one of the 'Gesta.' The more popular the tale, the
+more easily it held the attention; and the priests with telling
+directness brought home the moral to the simple-minded. The innocent
+joys and sad offenses of humanity interpreted the Church's whole system
+of theology, and the stories, committed to writing by the priests, were
+thus preserved.
+
+The secular tales must have been used in the pulpit for some time before
+their systematic collection was undertaken. The zeal for compiling
+probably reached its height in the age of Pierre Bercheure, who died in
+1362. To Bercheure, prior of the Benedictine Convent of St. Eloi at
+Paris, the collection of 'Gesta Romanorum' has been ascribed. A German
+scholar, however, Herr Oesterley, who published in 1872 the result of an
+investigation of one hundred and sixty-five manuscripts, asserts that
+the 'Gesta' were originally compiled towards the end of the thirteenth
+century in England, from which country they were taken to the Continent,
+there undergoing various alterations. "The popularity of the original
+'Gesta,'" says Sir F. Madden, "not only on the Continent but among the
+English clergy, appears to have induced some person, apparently in the
+reign of Richard the Second, to undertake a similar compilation in this
+country." The 'Anglo-Latin Gesta' is the immediate original of the early
+English translation from which the following stories are taken, with
+slight verbal changes.
+
+The word _Gesta_, in mediaeval Latin, means notable or historic act or
+exploit. The Church, drawing all power, consequence, and grace from
+Rome, naturally looked back to the Roman empire for historic examples.
+In this fact we find the reason of the name. The tales betray an entire
+ignorance of history. In one, for example, a statue is raised to Julius
+Caesar twenty-two years after the founding of Rome; while in another,
+Socrates, Alexander, and the Emperor Claudius are living together in
+Rome.
+
+It is a pleasant picture which such legends bring before our eyes. The
+old parish church of England, which with its yards is a common
+meeting-place for the people's fairs and wakes, and even for their
+beer-brewing; the simple rustics forming the congregation; the tonsured
+head of the priest rising above the pulpit,--a monk from the neighboring
+abbey, who earns his brown bread and ale and venison by endeavors to
+move the moral sentiments which lie at the root of the Anglo-Saxon
+character and beneath the apparent stolidity of each yokel. Many of the
+tales are unfit for reproduction in our more mincing times. The
+faithlessness of wives--with no reference whatever to the faithlessness
+of husbands--is a favorite theme with these ancient cenobites.
+
+It is possible, Herr Oesterley thinks, that the conjecture of Francis
+Douce may be true, and the 'Gesta' may after all have been compiled in
+Germany. But the bulk of the evidence goes to prove an English origin.
+The earliest editions were published at Utrecht and at Cologne. The
+English translation, from the text of the Latin of the reign of Richard
+II., was first printed by Wynkyn de Worde between 1510 and 1515. In 1577
+Richard Robinson published a revised edition of Wynkyn de Worde's. The
+work became again popular, and between 1648 and 1703 at least eight
+issues were sold. An English translation by Charles Swan from the Latin
+text was first published in 1824, and reissued under the editorship of
+Thomas Wright in 1872 as a part of Bohn's Library.
+
+
+
+THEODOSIUS THE EMPEROURE[A]
+
+
+Theodosius reigned a wise emperour in the cite of Rome, and mighty he
+was of power; the which emperoure had three doughters. So it liked to
+this emperour to knowe which of his doughters loved him best; and then
+he said to the eldest doughter, "How much lovest thou me?" "Forsoth,"
+quoth she, "more than I do myself." "Therefore," quoth he, "thou shalt
+be heighly advanced;" and married her to a riche and mighty kyng. Then
+he came to the second, and said to her, "Doughter, how muche lovest thou
+me?" "As muche forsoth," she said, "as I do myself." So the emperoure
+married her to a duke. And then he said to the third doughter, "How much
+lovest thou me?" "Forsoth," quoth she, "as muche as ye be worthy, and no
+more." Then said the emperoure, "Doughter, since thou lovest me no more,
+thou shalt not be married so richely as thy sisters be." And then he
+married her to an earl.
+
+    [A] The story of King Lear and his three daughters.
+
+After this it happened that the emperour held battle against the Kyng of
+Egipt, and the kyng drove the emperour oute of the empire, in so muche
+that the emperour had no place to abide inne. So he wrote lettres
+ensealed with his ryng to his first doughter that said that she loved
+him more than her self, for to pray her of succoring in that great need,
+bycause he was put out of his empire. And when the doughter had red
+these lettres she told it to the kyng her husband. Then quoth the kyng,
+"It is good that we succor him in his need. I shall," quoth he, "gather
+an host and help him in all that I can or may; and that will not be done
+withoute great costage." "Yea," quoth she, "it were sufficiant if that
+we would graunt him V knyghtes to be fellowship with him while he is
+oute of his empire." And so it was done indeed; and the doughter wrote
+again to the fader that other help might he not have, but V knyghtes of
+the kynges to be in his fellowship, at the coste of the kyng her
+husband.
+
+And when the emperour heard this he was hevy in his hert and said,
+"Alas! alas! all my trust was in her; for she said she loved me more
+than herself, and therefore I advanced her so high."
+
+Then he wrote to the second, that said she loved him as much as her
+self. And when she had herd his lettres she shewed his erand to her
+husband, and gave him in counsel that he should find him mete and drink
+and clothing, honestly as for the state of such a lord, during tyme of
+his nede; and when this was graunted she wrote lettres agein to hir
+fadir.
+
+The Emperour was hevy with this answere, and said, "Since my two
+doughters have thus grieved me, in sooth I shall prove the third."
+
+And so he wrote to the third that she loved him as muche as he was
+worthy; and prayed her of succor in his nede, and told her the answere
+of her two sisters. So the third doughter, when she considered the
+mischief of her fader, she told her husbond in this fourme: "My
+worshipful lord, do succor me now in this great nede; my fadir is put
+out of his empire and his heritage." Then spake he, "What were thy will
+I did thereto?" "That ye gather a great host," quoth she, "and help him
+to fight against his enemys." "I shall fulfill thy will," said the earl;
+and gathered a greate hoste and wente with the emperour at his owne
+costage to the battle, and had the victorye, and set the emperour again
+in his heritage.
+
+And then said the emperour, "Blessed be the hour I gat my yonest
+doughter! I loved her lesse than any of the others, and now in my nede
+she hath succored me, and the others have failed me, and therefore after
+my deth she shall have mine empire." And so it was done in dede; for
+after the deth of the emperour the youngest doughter reigned in his
+sted, and ended peacefully.
+
+
+
+MORALITE
+
+
+Dere Frendis, this emperour may be called each worldly man, the which
+hath three doughters. The first doughter, that saith, "I love my fadir
+more than my self," is the worlde, whom a man loveth so well that he
+expendeth all his life about it; but what tyme he shall be in nede of
+deth, scarcely if the world will for all his love give him five
+knyghtes, _scil._ v. boards for a coffin to lay his body inne in the
+sepulcre. The second doughter, that loveth her fader as muche as her
+selfe, is thy wife or thy children or thy kin, the whiche will haply
+find thee in thy nede to the tyme that thou be put in the erthe. And the
+third doughter, that loveth thee as muche as thou art worthy, is our
+Lord God, whom we love too little. But if we come to him in tyme of oure
+nede with a clene hert and mynd, withoute doute we shall have help of
+him against the Kyng of Egipt, _scil._ the Devil; and he shall set us in
+our owne heritage, _scil._ the kyngdome of heven. _Ad quod nos_ [etc.].
+
+
+
+ANCELMUS THE EMPEROUR[B]
+
+
+Ancelmus reigned emperour in the cite of Rome, and he wedded to wife
+the Kinges doughter of Jerusalem, the which was a faire woman and long
+dwelte in his company.
+
+    [B] The story of the three caskets in 'The Merchant of
+    Venice.'
+
+... Happing in a certaine evening as he walked after his supper in a
+fair green, and thought of all the worlde, and especially that he had no
+heir, and how that the Kinge of Naples strongly therefore noyed [harmed]
+him each year; and so whenne it was night he went to bed and took a
+sleep and dreamed this: He saw the firmament in its most clearnesse, and
+more clear than it was wont to be, and the moon was more pale; and on a
+parte of the moon was a faire-colored bird, and beside her stood two
+beasts, the which nourished the bird with their heat and breath. After
+this came divers beasts and birds flying, and they sang so sweetly that
+the emperour was with the song awaked.
+
+Thenne on the morrow the emperoure had great marvel of his sweven
+[dream], and called to him divinours [soothsayers] and lords of all the
+empire, and saide to them, "Deere frendes, telleth me what is the
+interpretation of my sweven, and I shall reward you; and but if ye do,
+ye shall be dead." And then they saide, "Lord, show to us this dream,
+and we shall tell thee the interpretation of it." And then the emperour
+told them as is saide before, from beginning to ending. And then they
+were glad, and with a great gladnesse spake to him and saide, "Sir, this
+was a good sweven. For the firmament that thou sawe so clear is the
+empire, the which henceforth shall be in prosperity; the pale moon is
+the empresse.... The little bird is the faire son whom the empresse
+shall bryng forth, when time cometh; the two beasts been riche men and
+wise men that shall be obedient to thy childe; the other beasts been
+other folke, that never made homage and nowe shall be subject to thy
+sone; the birds that sang so sweetly is the empire of Rome, that shall
+joy of thy child's birth: and sir, this is the interpretacion of your
+dream."
+
+When the empresse heard this she was glad enough; and soon she bare a
+faire sone, and thereof was made much joy. And when the King of Naples
+heard that, he thought to himselfe: "I have longe time holden war
+against the emperour, and it may not be but that it will be told to his
+son, when that he cometh to his full age, howe that I have fought all my
+life against his fader. Yea," thought he, "he is now a child, and it is
+good that I procure for peace, that I may have rest of him when he is in
+his best and I in my worste."
+
+So he wrote lettres to the emperour for peace to be had; and the
+emperour seeing that he did that more for cause of dread than of love,
+he sent him worde again, and saide that he would make him surety of
+peace, with condition that he would be in his servitude and yield him
+homage all his life, each year. Thenne the kyng called his counsel and
+asked of them what was best to do; and the lordes of his kyngdom saide
+that it was goode to follow the emperour in his will:--"In the first ye
+aske of him surety of peace; to that we say thus: Thou hast a doughter
+and he hath a son; let matrimony be made between them, and so there
+shall be good sikernesse [sureness]; also it is good to make him homage
+and yield him rents." Thenne the kyng sent word to the emperour and
+saide that he would fulfill his will in all points, and give his
+doughter to his son in wife, if that it were pleasing to him.
+
+This answer liked well the emperour. So lettres were made of this
+covenaunt; and he made a shippe to be adeyned [prepared], to lead his
+doughter with a certain of knightes and ladies to the emperour to be
+married with his sone. And whenne they were in the shippe and hadde far
+passed from the lande, there rose up a great horrible tempest, and
+drowned all that were in the ship, except the maid. Thenne the maide set
+all her hope strongly in God; and at the last the tempest ceased; but
+then followed strongly a great whale to devoure this maid. And whenne
+she saw that, she muche dreaded; and when the night come, the maid,
+dreading that the whale would have swallowed the ship, smote fire at a
+stone, and had great plenty of fire; and as long as the fire lasted the
+whale durst come not near, but about cock's crow the mayde, for great
+vexacion that she had with the tempest, fell asleep, and in her sleep
+the fire went out; and when it was out the whale came nigh and swallowed
+both the ship and the mayde. And when the mayde felt that she was in the
+womb of a whale, she smote and made great fire, and grievously wounded
+the whale with a little knife, in so much that the whale drew to the
+land and died; for that is the kind to draw to the land when he shall
+die.
+
+And in this time there was an earl named Pirius, and he walked in his
+disport by the sea, and afore him he sawe the whale come toward the
+land. He gathered great help and strength of men; and with diverse
+instruments they smote the whale in every part of him. And when the
+damsell heard the great strokes she cried with an high voice and saide,
+"Gentle sirs, have pity on me, for I am the doughter of a king, and a
+mayde have been since I was born." Whenne the earl heard this he
+marveled greatly, and opened the whale and took oute the damsell. Thenne
+the maide tolde by order how that she was a kyng's doughter, and how she
+lost her goods in the sea, and how she should be married to the son of
+the emperour. And when the earl heard these words he was glad, and helde
+the maide with him a great while, till tyme that she was well comforted;
+and then he sent her solemnly to the emperour. And whenne he saw her
+coming, and heard that she had tribulacions in the sea, he had great
+compassion for her in his heart, and saide to her, "Goode damsell, thou
+hast suffered muche anger for the love of my son; nevertheless, if that
+thou be worthy to have him I shall soon prove."
+
+The emperour had made III. vessells, and the first was of clean [pure]
+golde and full of precious stones outwarde, and within full of dead
+bones; and it had a superscription in these words: _They that choose me
+shall find in me that they deserve._ The second vessell was all of clean
+silver, and full of worms: and outwarde it had this superscription:
+_They that choose me shall find in me that nature and kind desireth._
+And the third vessell was of lead and within was full of precious
+stones, and without was set this scripture [inscription]: _They that
+choose me shall find in me that God hath disposed._ These III. vessells
+tooke the emperour and showed the maide, saying, "Lo! deer damsell, here
+are three worthy vessellys, and if thou choose [the] one of these
+wherein is profit and right to be chosen, then thou shalt have my son to
+husband; and if thou choose that that is not profitable to thee nor to
+no other, forsooth, thenne thou shalt not have him."
+
+Whenne the doughter heard this and saw the three vessells, she lifted up
+her eyes to God and saide:--"Thou, Lord, that knowest all things, graunt
+me thy grace now in the need of this time, _scil._ that I may choose at
+this time, wherethrough [through which] I may joy the son of the
+emperour and have him to husband." Thenne she beheld the first vessell
+that was so subtly [cunningly] made, and read the superscription; and
+thenne she thought, "What have I deserved for to have so precious a
+vessell? and though it be never so gay without, I know not how foul it
+is within;" so she tolde the emperour that she would by no way choose
+that. Thenne she looked to the second, that was of silver, and read the
+superscription; and thenne she said, "My nature and kind asketh but
+delectation of the flesh, forsooth, sir," quoth she; "and I refuse
+this." Thenne she looked to the third, that was of lead, and read the
+superscription, and then she, saide, "In sooth, God disposed never evil;
+forsooth, that which God hath disposed will I take and choose."
+
+And when the emperour sawe that he saide, "Goode damesell, open now that
+vessell and see what thou hast found." And when it was opened it was
+full of gold and precious stones. And thenne the emperour saide to her
+again, "Damesell, thou hast wisely chosen and won my son to thine
+husband." So the day was set of their bridal, and great joy was made;
+and the son reigned after the decease of the fadir, the which made faire
+ende. _Ad quod nos perducat!_ Amen.
+
+
+
+MORALITE
+
+
+Deere frendis, this emperour is the Father of Heaven, the whiche made
+man ere he tooke flesh. The empress that conceived was the blessed
+Virgin, that conceived by the annunciation of the angel. The firmament
+was set in his most clearnesse, _scil._ the world was lighted in all its
+parts by the concepcion of the empress Our Lady.... The little bird that
+passed from the side of the moon is our Lord Jesus Christ, that was born
+at midnight and lapped [wrapped] in clothes and set in the crib. The two
+beasts are the oxen and the asses. The beasts that come from far parts
+are the herds [shepherds] to whom the angels saide, _Ecce annuncio vobis
+gaudium magnum_,--"Lo! I shew you a great joy." The birds that sang so
+sweetly are angels of heaven, that sang _Gloria in excelsis Deo_. The
+king that held such war is mankind, that was contrary to God while that
+it was in power of the Devil; but when our Lord Jesus Christ was born,
+then mankind inclined to God, and sent for peace to be had, when he took
+baptism and saide that he gave him to God and forsook the Devil. Now the
+king gave his doughter to the son of the emperour, _scil._ each one of
+us ought to give to God our soul in matrimony; for he is ready to
+receive her to his spouse [etc.].
+
+
+
+HOW AN ANCHORESS WAS TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL
+
+
+There was a woman some time in the world living that sawe the
+wretchedness, the sins, and the unstableness that was in the worlde;
+therefore she left all the worlde, and wente into the deserte, and lived
+there many years with roots and grasse, and such fruit as she might
+gete; and dranke water of the welle-spryng, for othere livelihood had
+she none. Atte laste, when she had longe dwelled there in that place,
+the Devil in likenesse of a woman, come to this holy woman's place; and
+when he come there he knocked at the door. The holy woman come to the
+door and asked what she would? She saide, "I pray thee, dame, that thou
+wilt harbor me this night; for this day is at an end, and I am afeard
+that wild beasts should devour me." The good woman saide, "For God's
+love ye are welcome to me; and take such as God sendeth." They sat them
+down together, and the good woman sat and read saints' lives and other
+good things, till she come to this writing, "Every tree that bringeth
+not forth good fruit shall be caste downe, and burnt in helle." "That is
+sooth," saide the Fiend, "and therefore I am adread; for if we lead oure
+life alone, therefore we shall have little meed, for when we dwelle
+alone we profit none but oure self. Therefore it were better, me
+thinketh, to go and dwelle among folke, for to give example to man and
+woman dwelling in this worlde. Then shall we have much meed." When this
+was saide they went to reste. This good woman thought faste in her heart
+that she might not sleep nor have no rest, for the thing that the Fiend
+had said. Anon this woman arose and saide to the other woman, "This
+night might I have no reste for the words that thou saide yester even.
+Therefore I wot never what is best to be done for us." Then the Devil
+said to her again, "It is best to go forth to profit to othere that
+shall be glad of oure coming, for that is much more worth than to live
+alone." Then saide the woman to the Fiend, "Go we now forthe on oure
+way, for me thinketh it is not evil to essay." And when she should go
+oute at the door, she stood still, and said thus, "Now, sweet Lady,
+Mother of mercy, and help at all need, now counsell me the beste, and
+keep me both body and soule from deadly sin." When she had said these
+words with good heart and with good will, oure Lady come and laide her
+hande on her breast, and put her in again, and bade her that she should
+abide there, and not be led by falsehood of oure Enemy. The Fiend anon
+went away that she saw him no more there. Then she was full fain that
+she was kept and not beguiled of her enemy. Then she said on this wise
+to oure Blessed Lady that is full of mercy and goodnesse, "I thanke thee
+nowe with all my heart, specially for this keeping and many more that
+thou hast done to me oft since; and good Lady, keep me from
+henceforward." Lo! here may men and women see how ready this good Lady
+is to help her servants at all their need, when they call to her for
+help, that they fall not in sin bestirring of the wicked enemy the false
+Fiend.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: EDWARD GIBBON.]
+
+
+
+
+EDWARD GIBBON
+
+(1737-1794)
+
+BY W. E. H. LECKY
+
+
+The history of Gibbon has been described by John Stuart Mill as the only
+eighteenth-century history that has withstood nineteenth-century
+criticism; and whatever objections modern critics may bring against some
+of its parts, the substantial justice of this verdict will scarcely be
+contested. No other history of that century has been so often reprinted,
+annotated, and discussed, or remains to the present day a capital
+authority on the great period of which it treats. As a composition it
+stands unchallenged and conspicuous among the masterpieces of English
+literature, while as a history it covers a space of more than twelve
+hundred years, including some of the most momentous events in the annals
+of mankind.
+
+Gibbon was born at Putney, Surrey, April 27th, 1737. Though his father
+was a member of Parliament and the owner of a moderate competence, the
+author of this great work was essentially a self-educated man. Weak
+health and almost constant illness in early boyhood broke up his school
+life,--which appears to have been fitfully and most imperfectly
+conducted,--withdrew him from boyish games, but also gave him, as it has
+given to many other shy and sedentary boys, an early and inveterate
+passion for reading. His reading, however, was very unlike that of an
+ordinary boy. He has given a graphic picture of the ardor with which,
+when he was only fourteen, he flung himself into serious but unguided
+study; which was at first purely desultory, but gradually contracted
+into historic lines, and soon concentrated itself mainly on that
+Oriental history which he was one day so brilliantly to illuminate.
+"Before I was sixteen," he says, "I had exhausted all that could be
+learned in English of the Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks; and
+the same ardor led me to guess at the French of D'Herbelot, and to
+construe the barbarous Latin of Pocock's 'Abulfaragius.'"
+
+His health however gradually improved, and when he entered Magdalen
+College, Oxford, it might have been expected that a new period of
+intellectual development would have begun; but Oxford had at this time
+sunk to the lowest depth of stagnation, and to Gibbon it proved
+extremely uncongenial. He complained that he found no guidance, no
+stimulus, and no discipline, and that the fourteen months he spent
+there were the most idle and unprofitable of his life. They were very
+unexpectedly cut short by his conversion to the Roman Catholic faith,
+which he formally adopted at the age of sixteen.
+
+This conversion is, on the whole, the most surprising incident of his
+calm and uneventful life. The tendencies of the time, both in England
+and on the Continent, were in a wholly different direction. The more
+spiritual and emotional natures were now passing into the religious
+revival of Wesley and Whitefield, which was slowly transforming the
+character of the Anglican Church and laying the foundations of the great
+Evangelical party. In other quarters the predominant tendencies were
+towards unbelief, skepticism, or indifference. Nature seldom formed a
+more skeptical intellect than that of Gibbon, and he was utterly without
+the spiritual insight, or spiritual cravings, or overmastering
+enthusiasms, that produce and explain most religious changes. Nor was he
+in the least drawn towards Catholicism on its aesthetic side. He had
+never come in contact with its worship or its professors; and to his
+unimaginative, unimpassioned, and profoundly intellectual temperament,
+no ideal type could be more uncongenial than that of the saint. He had
+however from early youth been keenly interested in theological
+controversies. He argued, like Lardner and Paley, that miracles are the
+Divine attestation of orthodoxy. Middleton convinced him that unless the
+Patristic writers were wholly undeserving of credit, the gift of
+miracles continued in the Church during the fourth and fifth centuries;
+and he was unable to resist the conclusion that during that period many
+of the leading doctrines of Catholicism had passed into the Church. The
+writings of the Jesuit Parsons, and still more the writings of Bossuet,
+completed the work which Middleton had begun. Having arrived at this
+conclusion, Gibbon acted on it with characteristic honesty, and was
+received into the Church on the 8th of June, 1753.
+
+The English universities were at this time purely Anglican bodies, and
+the conversion of Gibbon excluded him from Oxford. His father
+judiciously sent him to Lausanne to study with a Swiss pastor named
+Pavilliard, with whom he spent five happy and profitable years. The
+theological episode was soon terminated. Partly under the influence of
+his teacher, but much more through his own reading and reflections, he
+soon disentangled the purely intellectual ties that bound him to the
+Church of Rome; and on Christmas Day, 1754, he received the sacrament in
+the Protestant church of Lausanne.
+
+His residence at Lausanne was very useful to him. He had access to books
+in abundance, and his tutor, who was a man of great good sense and
+amiability but of no remarkable capacity, very judiciously left his
+industrious pupil to pursue his studies in his own way. "Hiving wisdom
+with each studious year," as Byron so truly says, he speedily amassed a
+store of learning which has seldom been equaled. His insatiable love of
+knowledge, his rare capacity for concentrated, accurate, and fruitful
+study, guided by a singularly sure and masculine judgment, soon made
+him, in the true sense of the word, one of the best scholars of his
+time. His learning, however, was not altogether of the kind that may be
+found in a great university professor. Though the classical languages
+became familiar to him, he never acquired or greatly valued the minute
+and finished scholarship which is the boast of the chief English
+schools; and careful students have observed that in following Greek
+books he must have very largely used the Latin translations. Perhaps in
+his capacity of historian this deficiency was rather an advantage than
+the reverse. It saved him from the exaggerated value of classical form,
+and from the neglect of the more corrupt literatures, to which English
+scholars have been often prone. Gibbon always valued books mainly for
+what they contained, and he had early learned the lesson which all good
+historians should learn: that some of his most valuable materials will
+be found in literatures that have no artistic merit; in writers who,
+without theory and almost without criticism, simply relate the facts
+which they have seen, and express in unsophisticated language the
+beliefs and impressions of their time.
+
+Lausanne and not Oxford was the real birthplace of his intellect, and he
+returned from it almost a foreigner. French had become as familiar to
+him as his own tongue; and his first book, a somewhat superficial essay
+on the study of literature, was published in the French language. The
+noble contemporary French literature filled him with delight, and he
+found on the borders of the Lake of Geneva a highly cultivated society
+to which he was soon introduced, and which probably gave him more real
+pleasure than any in which he afterwards moved. With Voltaire himself he
+had some slight acquaintance, and he at one time looked on him with
+profound admiration; though fuller knowledge made him sensible of the
+flaws in that splendid intellect. I am here concerned with the life of
+Gibbon only in as far as it discloses the influences that contributed to
+his master work, and among these influences the foreign element holds a
+prominent place. There was little in Gibbon that was distinctively
+English; his mind was essentially cosmopolitan. His tastes, ideals, and
+modes of thought and feeling turned instinctively to the Continent.
+
+In one respect this foreign type was of great advantage to his work.
+Gibbon excels all other English historians in symmetry, proportion,
+perspective, and arrangement, which are also the pre-eminent and
+characteristic merits of the best French literature. We find in his
+writing nothing of the great miscalculations of space that were made by
+such writers as Macaulay and Buckle; nothing of the awkward repetitions,
+the confused arrangement, the semi-detached and disjointed episodes that
+mar the beauty of many other histories of no small merit. Vast and
+multifarious as are the subjects which he has treated, his work is a
+great whole, admirably woven in all its parts. On the other hand, his
+foreign taste may perhaps be seen in his neglect of the Saxon element,
+which is the most vigorous and homely element in English prose. Probably
+in no other English writer does the Latin element so entirely
+predominate. Gibbon never wrote an unmeaning and very seldom an obscure
+sentence; he could always paint with sustained and stately eloquence an
+illustrious character or a splendid scene: but he was wholly wanting in
+the grace of simplicity, and a monotony of glitter and of mannerism is
+the great defect of his style. He possessed, to a degree which even
+Tacitus and Bacon had hardly surpassed, the supreme literary gift of
+condensation, and it gives an admirable force and vividness to his
+narrative; but it is sometimes carried to excess. Not unfrequently it is
+attained by an excessive allusiveness, and a wide knowledge of the
+subject is needed to enable the reader to perceive the full import and
+meaning conveyed or hinted at by a mere turn of phrase. But though his
+style is artificial and pedantic, and greatly wanting in flexibility, it
+has a rare power of clinging to the memory, and it has profoundly
+influenced English prose. That excellent judge Cardinal Newman has said
+of Gibbon, "I seem to trace his vigorous condensation and peculiar
+rhythm at every turn in the literature of the present day."
+
+It is not necessary to relate here in any detail the later events of the
+life of Gibbon. There was his enlistment as captain in the Hampshire
+militia. It involved two and a half years of active service, extending
+from May 1760 to December 1762; and as Gibbon afterwards acknowledged,
+if it interrupted his studies and brought him into very uncongenial
+duties and societies, it at least greatly enlarged his acquaintance with
+English life, and also gave him a knowledge of the rudiments of military
+science, which was not without its use to the historian of so many
+battles. There was a long journey, lasting for two years and five
+months, in France and Italy, which greatly confirmed his foreign
+tendencies. In Paris he moved familiarly in some of the best French
+literary society; and in Rome, as he tells us in a well-known passage,
+while he sat "musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol while the
+barefooted friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter" (which
+is now the Church of the Ara Coeli),--on October 15th, 1764,--he first
+conceived the idea of writing the history of the decline and fall of
+Rome.
+
+There was also that very curious episode in his life, lasting from 1774
+to 1782,--his appearance in the House of Commons. He had declined an
+offer of his father's to purchase a seat for him in 1760; and fourteen
+years later, when his father was dead, when his own circumstances were
+considerably contracted, he received and accepted at the hands of a
+family connection the offer of a seat. His Parliamentary career was
+entirely undistinguished, and he never even opened his mouth in
+debate,--a fact which was not forgotten when very recently another
+historian was candidate for a seat in Parliament. In truth, this
+somewhat shy and reserved scholar, with his fastidious taste, his
+eminently judicial mind, and his highly condensed and elaborate style,
+was singularly unfit for the rough work of Parliamentary discussion. No
+one can read his books without perceiving that his English was not that
+of a debater; and he has candidly admitted that he entered Parliament
+without public spirit or serious interest in politics, and that he
+valued it chiefly as leading to an office which might restore the
+fortune which the extravagance of his father had greatly impaired. His
+only real public service was the composition in French of a reply to the
+French manifesto which was issued at the beginning of the war of 1778.
+He voted steadily and placidly as a Tory, and it is not probable that in
+doing so he did any violence to his opinions. Like Hume, he shrank with
+an instinctive dislike from all popular agitations, from all turbulence,
+passion, exaggeration, and enthusiasm; and a temperate and well-ordered
+despotism was evidently his ideal. He showed it in the well-known
+passage in which he extols the benevolent despotism of the Antonines as
+without exception the happiest period in the history of mankind, and in
+the unmixed horror with which he looked upon the French Revolution that
+broke up the old landmarks of Europe, For three years he held an office
+in the Board of Trade, which added considerably to his income without
+adding greatly to his labors, and he supported steadily the American
+policy of Lord North and the Coalition ministry of North and Fox; but
+the loss of his office and the retirement of North soon drove him from
+Parliament, and he shortly after took up his residence at Lausanne.
+
+But before this time a considerable part of his great work had been
+accomplished. The first quarto volume of the 'Decline and Fall' appeared
+in February 1776. As is usually the case with historical works, it
+occupied a much longer period than its successors, and was the fruit of
+about ten years of labor. It passed rapidly through three editions,
+received the enthusiastic eulogy of Hume and Robertson, and was no doubt
+greatly assisted in its circulation by the storm of controversy that
+arose about his Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters. In April 1781 two more
+volumes appeared, and the three concluding volumes were published
+together on the 8th of May, 1788, being the fifty-first birthday of the
+author.
+
+A work of such magnitude, dealing with so vast a variety of subjects,
+was certain to exhibit some flaws. The controversy at first turned
+mainly upon its religious tendency. The complete skepticism of the
+author, his aversion to the ecclesiastical type which dominated in the
+period of which he wrote, and his unalterable conviction that
+Christianity, by diverting the strength and enthusiasm of the Empire
+from civic into ascetic and ecclesiastical channels, was a main cause of
+the downfall of the Empire and of the triumph of barbarism, gave him a
+bias which it was impossible to overlook. On no other subject is his
+irony more bitter or his contempt so manifestly displayed. Few good
+critics will deny that the growth of the ascetic spirit had a large part
+in corroding and enfeebling the civic virtues of the Empire; but the
+part which it played was that of intensifying a disease that had already
+begun, and Gibbon, while exaggerating the amount of the evil, has very
+imperfectly described the great services rendered even by a monastic
+Church in laying the basis of another civilization and in mitigating the
+calamities of the barbarian invasion. The causes he has given of the
+spread of Christianity in the Fifteenth Chapter were for the most part
+true causes, but there were others of which he was wholly insensible.
+The strong moral enthusiasms that transform the character and inspire or
+accelerate all great religious changes lay wholly beyond the sphere of
+his realizations. His language about the Christian martyrs is the most
+repulsive portion of his work; and his comparison of the sufferings
+caused by pagan and Christian persecutions is greatly vitiated by the
+fact that he only takes account of the number of deaths, and lays no
+stress on the profuse employment of atrocious tortures, which was one of
+the most distinct features of the pagan persecutions. At the same time,
+though Gibbon displays in this field a manifest and a distorting bias,
+he never, like some of his French contemporaries, sinks into the mere
+partisan, awarding to one side unqualified eulogy and to the other
+unqualified contempt. Let the reader who doubts this examine and compare
+his masterly portraits of Julian and of Athanasius, and he will perceive
+how clearly the great historian could recognize weaknesses in the
+characters by which he was most attracted, and elements of true
+greatness in those by which he was most repelled. A modern writer, in
+treating of the history of religions, would have given a larger space to
+comparative religion, and to the gradual, unconscious, and spontaneous
+growth of myths in the twilight periods of the human mind. These however
+were subjects which were scarcely known in the days of Gibbon, and he
+cannot be blamed for not having discussed them.
+
+Another class of objections which has been brought against him is that
+he is weak upon the philosophical side, and deals with history mainly
+as a mere chronicle of events, and not as a chain of causes and
+consequences, a series of problems to be solved, a gradual evolution
+which it is the task of the historian to explain. Coleridge, who
+detested Gibbon and spoke of him with gross injustice, has put this
+objection in the strongest form. He accuses him of having reduced
+history to a mere collection of splendid anecdotes; of noting nothing
+but what may produce an effect; of skipping from eminence to eminence
+without ever taking his readers through the valleys between; of having
+never made a single philosophical attempt to fathom the ultimate causes
+of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, which is the very subject
+of his history. That such charges are grossly exaggerated will be
+apparent to any one who will carefully read the Second and Third
+Chapters, describing the state and tendencies of the Empire under the
+Antonines; or the chapters devoted to the rise and character of the
+barbarians, to the spread of Christianity, to the influence of
+monasticism, to the jurisprudence of the republic and of the Empire; nor
+would it be difficult to collect many acute and profound philosophical
+remarks from other portions of the history. Still, it may be admitted
+that the philosophical side is not its strongest part. Social and
+economical changes are sometimes inadequately examined and explained,
+and we often desire fuller information about the manners and life of the
+masses of the people. As far as concerns the age of the Antonines, this
+want has been amply supplied by the great work of Friedlaender.
+
+History, like many other things in our generation, has fallen largely
+into the hands of specialists; and it is inevitable that men who have
+devoted their lives to a minute examination of short periods should be
+able to detect some deficiencies and errors in a writer who traversed a
+period of more than twelve hundred years. Many generations of scholars
+have arisen since Gibbon; many new sources of knowledge have become
+available, and archaeology especially has thrown a flood of new light on
+some of the subjects he treated. Though his knowledge and his narrative
+are on the whole admirably sustained, there are periods which he knew
+less well and treated less fully than others. His account of the
+Crusades is generally acknowledged to be one of the most conspicuous of
+these, and within the last few years there has arisen a school of
+historians who protest against the low opinion of the Byzantine Empire
+which was held by Gibbon, and was almost universal among scholars till
+the present generation. That these writers have brought into relief
+certain merits of the Lower Empire which Gibbon had neglected, will not
+be denied; but it is perhaps too early to decide whether the reaction
+has not, like most reactions, been carried to extravagance, and whether
+in its general features the estimate of Gibbon is not nearer the truth
+than some of those which are now put forward to replace it.
+
+Much must no doubt be added to the work of Gibbon in order to bring it
+up to the level of our present knowledge; but there is no sign that any
+single work is likely to supersede it or to render it useless to the
+student; nor does its survival depend only or even mainly on its great
+literary qualities, which have made it one of the classics of the
+language. In some of these qualities Hume was the equal of Gibbon and in
+others his superior, and he brought to his history a more penetrating
+and philosophical intellect and an equally calm and unenthusiastic
+nature; but the study which Hume bestowed on his subject was so
+superficial and his statements were often so inaccurate, that his work
+is now never quoted as an authority. With Gibbon it is quite otherwise.
+His marvelous industry, his almost unrivaled accuracy of detail, his
+sincere love of truth, his rare discrimination and insight in weighing
+testimony and in judging character, have given him a secure place among
+the greatest historians of the world.
+
+His life lasted only fifty-six years; he died in London on January 15th,
+1794. With a single exception his history is his only work of real
+importance. That exception is his admirable autobiography. Gibbon left
+behind him six distinct sketches, which his friend Lord Sheffield put
+together with singular skill. It is one of the best specimens of
+self-portraiture in the language, reflecting with pellucid clearness
+both the life and character, the merits and defects, of its author. He
+was certainly neither a hero nor a saint; nor did he possess the moral
+and intellectual qualities that dominate in the great conflicts of life,
+sway the passions of men, appeal powerfully to the imagination, or
+dazzle and impress in social intercourse. He was a little slow, a little
+pompous, a little affected and pedantic. In the general type of his mind
+and character he bore much more resemblance to Hume, Adam Smith, or
+Reynolds, than to Johnson or Burke. A reserved scholar, who was rather
+proud of being a man of the world; a confirmed bachelor, much wedded to
+his comforts though caring nothing for luxury, he was eminently moderate
+in his ambitions, and there was not a trace of passion or enthusiasm in
+his nature. Such a man was not likely to inspire any strong devotion.
+But his temper was most kindly, equable, and contented; he was a steady
+friend, and he appears to have been always liked and honored in the
+cultivated and uncontentious society in which he delighted. His life was
+not a great one, but it was in all essentials blameless and happy. He
+found the work which was most congenial to him. He pursued it with
+admirable industry and with brilliant success, and he left behind him a
+book which is not likely to be forgotten while the English language
+endures.
+
+                                         [Signature: W. E. H. Lecky]
+
+
+
+ZENOBIA
+
+
+Aurelian had no sooner secured the person and provinces of Tetricus,
+than he turned his arms against Zenobia, the celebrated queen of Palmyra
+and the East. Modern Europe has produced several illustrious women who
+have sustained with glory the weight of empire; nor is our own age
+destitute of such distinguished characters. But if we except the
+doubtful achievements of Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female
+whose superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on her
+sex by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her descent from the
+Macedonian kings of Egypt, equaled in beauty her ancestor Cleopatra, and
+far surpassed that princess in chastity and valor. Zenobia was esteemed
+the most lovely as well as the most heroic of her sex. She was of a dark
+complexion (for in speaking of a lady these trifles become important).
+Her teeth were of a pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled
+with uncommon fire, tempered by the most attractive sweetness. Her voice
+was strong and harmonious. Her manly understanding was strengthened and
+adorned by study. She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but
+possessed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian
+languages. She had drawn up for her own use an epitome of Oriental
+history, and familiarly compared the beauties of Homer and Plato under
+the tuition of the sublime Longinus.
+
+This accomplished woman gave her hand to Odenathus, who, from a private
+station, raised himself to the dominion of the East. She soon became the
+friend and companion of a hero. In the intervals of war, Odenathus
+passionately delighted in the exercise of hunting; he pursued with ardor
+the wild beasts of the desert,--lions, panthers, and bears; and the
+ardor of Zenobia in that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his
+own. She had inured her constitution to fatigue, disdained the use of a
+covered carriage, generally appeared on horseback in a military habit,
+and sometimes marched several miles on foot at the head of the troops.
+The success of Odenathus was in a great measure ascribed to her
+incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their splendid victories over the
+Great King, whom they twice pursued as far as the gates of Ctesiphon,
+laid the foundations of their united fame and power. The armies which
+they commanded, and the provinces which they had saved, acknowledged
+not any other sovereigns than their invincible chiefs. The Senate and
+people of Rome revered a stranger who had avenged their captive emperor,
+and even the insensible son of Valerian accepted Odenathus for his
+legitimate colleague.
+
+After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of Asia, the
+Palmyrenian prince returned to the city of Emesa in Syria. Invincible in
+war, he was there cut off by domestic treason; and his favorite
+amusement of hunting was the cause, or at least the occasion, of his
+death. His nephew Maeonius presumed to dart his javelin before that of
+his uncle; and though admonished of his error, repeated the same
+insolence. As a monarch and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took
+away his horse, a mark of ignominy among the barbarians, and chastised
+the rash youth by a short confinement. The offense was soon forgot, but
+the punishment was remembered; and Maeonius, with a few daring
+associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst of a great
+entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not of Zenobia, a
+young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was killed with his father.
+But Maeonius obtained only the pleasure of revenge by this bloody deed.
+He had scarcely time to assume the title of Augustus, before he was
+sacrificed by Zenobia to the memory of her husband.
+
+With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she immediately filled
+the vacant throne, and governed with manly counsels Palmyra, Syria, and
+the East, above five years. By the death of Odenathus, that authority
+was at an end which the Senate had granted him only as a personal
+distinction; but his martial widow, disdaining both the Senate and
+Gallienus, obliged one of the Roman generals who was sent against her to
+retreat into Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation.
+Instead of the little passions which so frequently perplex a female
+reign, the steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most
+judicious maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she could
+calm her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she could impose
+silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was accused of avarice;
+yet on every proper occasion she appeared magnificent and liberal. The
+neighboring States of Arabia, Armenia, and Persia dreaded her enmity and
+solicited her alliance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extended
+from the Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the
+inheritance of her ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of
+Egypt. The Emperor Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content that
+while _he_ pursued the Gothic war, _she_ should assert the dignity of
+the Empire in the East. The conduct however of Zenobia was attended with
+some ambiguity, nor is it unlikely that she had conceived the design of
+erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. She blended with the
+popular manners of Roman princes the stately pomp of the courts of Asia,
+and exacted from her subjects the same adoration that was paid to the
+successors of Cyrus. She bestowed on her three sons a Latin education,
+and often showed them to the troops adorned with the imperial purple.
+For herself she reserved the diadem, with the splendid but doubtful
+title of Queen of the East.
+
+When Aurelian passed over into Asia against an adversary whose sex alone
+could render her an object of contempt, his presence restored obedience
+to the province of Bithynia, already shaken by the arms and intrigues of
+Zenobia. Advancing at the head of his legions, he accepted the
+submission of Ancyra, and was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate
+siege, by the help of a perfidious citizen. The generous though fierce
+temper of Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers: a
+superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen
+of Apollonius the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on his approach,
+till the Emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the fugitives, and
+granted a general pardon to all who from necessity rather than choice
+had been engaged in the service of the Palmyrenian Queen. The unexpected
+mildness of such a conduct reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and as
+far as the gates of Emesa the wishes of the people seconded the terror
+of his arms.
+
+Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she indolently
+permitted the Emperor of the West to approach within a hundred miles of
+her capital. The fate of the East was decided in two great battles, so
+similar in almost every circumstance that we can scarcely distinguish
+them from each other, except by observing that the first was fought near
+Antioch and the second near Emesa. In both the Queen of Palmyra animated
+the armies by her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on
+Zabdas, who had already signalized his military talents by the conquest
+of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted for the most part of
+light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed in complete steel. The
+Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian were unable to sustain the
+ponderous charge of their antagonists. They fled in real or affected
+disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians in a laborious pursuit, harassed them
+by a desultory combat, and at length discomfited this impenetrable but
+unwieldy body of cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when
+they had exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a
+closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the legions.
+Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were usually stationed on
+the Upper Danube, and whose valor had been severely tried in the
+Alemannic war. After the defeat of Emesa, Zenobia found it impossible to
+collect a third army. As far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations
+subject to her empire had joined the standard of the conqueror, who
+detached Probus, the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the
+Egyptian provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of
+Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made every
+preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared, with the
+intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and of her
+life should be the same.
+
+Amid the barren deserts of Arabia, a few cultivated spots rise like
+islands out of the sandy ocean. Even the name of Tadmor, or Palmyra, by
+its signification in the Syriac as well as in the Latin language,
+denoted the multitude of palm-trees which afforded shade and verdure to
+that temperate region. The air was pure, and the soil, watered by some
+invaluable springs, was capable of producing fruits as well as corn.
+A place possessed of such singular advantages, and situated at a
+convenient distance between the Gulf of Persia and the Mediterranean,[C]
+was soon frequented by the caravans which conveyed to the nations of
+Europe a considerable part of the rich commodities of India. Palmyra
+insensibly increased into an opulent and independent city, and
+connecting the Roman and the Parthian monarchies by the mutual benefits
+of commerce, was suffered to observe a humble neutrality, till at length
+after the victories of Trajan the little republic sunk into the bosom of
+Rome, and flourished more than one hundred and fifty years in the
+subordinate though honorable rank of a colony. It was during that
+peaceful period, if we may judge from a few remaining inscriptions, that
+the wealthy Palmyrenians constructed those temples, palaces, and
+porticos of Grecian architecture whose ruins, scattered over an extent
+of several miles, have deserved the curiosity of our travelers. The
+elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to reflect new splendor on
+their country, and Palmyra for a while stood forth the rival of Rome:
+but the competition was fatal, and ages of prosperity were sacrificed to
+a moment of glory.
+
+    [C] Five hundred and thirty-seven miles from Seleucia, two
+    hundred and three from the nearest coast of Syria, according
+    to Pliny.
+
+In his march over the sandy desert between Emesa and Palmyra, the
+Emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the Arabs; nor could he
+always defend his army, and especially his baggage, from those flying
+troops of active and daring robbers who watched the moment of surprise
+and eluded the slow pursuit of the legions. The siege of Palmyra was an
+object far more difficult and important, and the Emperor, who with
+incessant vigor pressed the attacks in person, was himself wounded with
+a dart. "The Roman people," says Aurelian, in an original letter, "speak
+with contempt of the war which I am waging against a woman. They are
+ignorant both of the character and of the power of Zenobia. It is
+impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations of stones, of arrows,
+and of every species of missile weapons. Every part of the walls is
+provided with two or three _balistae_, and artificial fires are thrown
+from her military engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with a
+desperate courage. Yet still I trust in the protecting deities of Rome,
+who have hitherto been favorable to all my undertakings." Doubtful,
+however, of the protection of the gods and of the event of the siege,
+Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous
+capitulation: to the Queen, a splendid retreat; to the citizens, their
+ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately rejected, and the
+refusal was accompanied with insult.
+
+The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope that in a very short
+time famine would compel the Roman army to repass the desert, and by the
+reasonable expectation that the kings of the East, and particularly the
+Persian monarch, would arm in the defense of their most natural ally.
+But fortune and the perseverance of Aurelian overcame every obstacle.
+The death of Sapor, which happened about this time, distracted the
+counsels of Persia, and the inconsiderable succors that attempted to
+relieve Palmyra were easily intercepted either by the arms or the
+liberality of the Emperor. From every part of Syria a regular succession
+of convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by the return
+of Probus with his victorious troops from the conquest of Egypt. It was
+then that Zenobia resolved to fly. She mounted the fleetest of her
+dromedaries, and had already reached the banks of the Euphrates, about
+sixty miles from Palmyra, when she was overtaken by the pursuit of
+Aurelian's light horse, seized, and brought back a captive to the feet
+of the Emperor. Her capital soon afterwards surrendered, and was treated
+with unexpected lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with an immense
+treasure of gold, silver, silk, and precious stones, were all delivered
+to the conqueror, who, leaving only a garrison of six hundred archers,
+returned to Emesa and employed some time in the distribution of rewards
+and punishments at the end of so memorable a war, which restored to the
+obedience of Rome those provinces that had renounced their allegiance
+since the captivity of Valerian.
+
+When the Syrian Queen was brought into the presence of Aurelian he
+sternly asked her, How she had presumed to rise in arms against the
+emperors of Rome! The answer of Zenobia was a prudent mixture of respect
+and firmness: "Because I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an
+Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my
+sovereign." But as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is
+seldom steady or consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the
+hour of trial; she trembled at the angry clamors of the soldiers, who
+called aloud for her immediate execution, forgot the generous despair of
+Cleopatra which she had proposed as her model, and ignominiously
+purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her friends. It was to
+their counsels, which governed the weakness of her sex, that she imputed
+the guilt of her obstinate resistance; it was on their heads that she
+directed the vengeance of the cruel Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who
+was included among the numerous and perhaps innocent victims of her
+fear, will survive that of the Queen who betrayed or the tyrant who
+condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce
+unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize the
+soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint he calmly followed the
+executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing comfort on his
+afflicted friends....
+
+But, however in the treatment of his unfortunate rivals Aurelian might
+indulge his pride, he behaved towards them with a generous clemency
+which was seldom exercised by the ancient conquerors. Princes who
+without success had defended their throne or freedom, were frequently
+strangled in prison as soon as the triumphal pomp ascended the Capitol.
+These usurpers, whom their defeat had convicted of the crime of treason,
+were permitted to spend their lives in affluence and honorable repose.
+The Emperor presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur, or Tivoli,
+about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen insensibly sunk
+into a Roman matron, her daughters married into noble families, and her
+race was not yet extinct in the fifth century.
+
+
+
+FOUNDATION OF CONSTANTINOPLE
+
+
+We are at present qualified to view the advantageous position of
+Constantinople, which appears to have been formed by nature for the
+centre and capital of a great monarchy. Situated in the forty-first
+degree of latitude, the imperial city commanded from her seven hills the
+opposite shores of Europe and Asia; the climate was healthy and
+temperate, the soil fertile, the harbor secure and capacious; and the
+approach on the side of the continent was of small extent and easy
+defense. The Bosphorus and the Hellespont may be considered as the two
+gates of Constantinople; and the prince who possessed those important
+passages could always shut them against a naval enemy and open them to
+the fleets of commerce. The preservation of the eastern provinces may in
+some degree be ascribed to the policy of Constantine, as the barbarians
+of the Euxine, who in the preceding age had poured their armaments into
+the heart of the Mediterranean, soon desisted from the exercise of
+piracy, and despaired of forcing this insurmountable barrier. When the
+gates of the Hellespont and Bosphorus were shut, the capital still
+enjoyed within their spacious inclosure every production which could
+supply the wants or gratify the luxury of its numerous inhabitants. The
+sea-coasts of Thrace and Bithynia, which languish under the weight of
+Turkish oppression, still exhibit a rich prospect of vineyards, of
+gardens, and of plentiful harvests; and the Propontis has ever been
+renowned for an inexhaustible store of the most exquisite fish, that are
+taken in their stated seasons without skill and almost without labor.
+But when the passages of the straits were thrown open for trade, they
+alternately admitted the natural and artificial riches of the North and
+South, of the Euxine and of the Mediterranean. Whatever rude commodities
+were collected in the forests of Germany and Scythia, as far as the
+sources of the Tanais and the Borysthenes; whatsoever was manufactured
+by the skill of Europe or Asia; the corn of Egypt, and the gems and
+spices of the farthest India, were brought by the varying winds into the
+port of Constantinople, which for many ages attracted the commerce of
+the ancient world.
+
+The prospect of beauty, of safety, and of wealth, united in a single
+spot, was sufficient to justify the choice of Constantine. But as some
+decent mixture of prodigy and fable has in every age been supposed to
+reflect a becoming majesty on the origin of great cities, the Emperor
+was desirous of ascribing his resolution, not so much to the uncertain
+counsels of human policy as to the infallible and eternal decrees of
+Divine wisdom. In one of his laws he has been careful to instruct
+posterity that in obedience to the commands of God he laid the
+everlasting foundations of Constantinople: and though he has not
+condescended to relate in what manner the celestial inspiration was
+communicated to his mind, the defect of his modest silence has been
+liberally supplied by the ingenuity of succeeding writers, who describe
+the nocturnal vision which appeared to the fancy of Constantine as he
+slept within the walls of Byzantium. The tutelar genius of the city, a
+venerable matron sinking under the weight of years and infirmities, was
+suddenly transformed into a blooming maid, whom his own hands adorned
+with all the symbols of imperial greatness. The monarch awoke,
+interpreted the auspicious omen, and obeyed without hesitation the will
+of Heaven. The day which gave birth to a city or colony was celebrated
+by the Romans with such ceremonies as had been ordained by a generous
+superstition; and though Constantine might omit some rites which savored
+too strongly of their pagan origin, yet he was anxious to leave a deep
+impression of hope and respect on the minds of the spectators. On foot,
+with a lance in his hand, the Emperor himself led the solemn procession,
+and directed the line which was traced as the boundary of the destined
+capital; till the growing circumference was observed with astonishment
+by the assistants, who at length ventured to observe that he had already
+exceeded the most ample measure of a great city. "I shall still
+advance," replied Constantine, "till HE, the invisible guide who marches
+before me, thinks proper to stop." Without presuming to investigate the
+nature or motives of this extraordinary conductor, we shall content
+ourselves with the more humble task of describing the extent and limits
+of Constantinople.
+
+In the actual state of the city, the palace and gardens of the Seraglio
+occupy the eastern promontory, the first of the seven hills, and cover
+about one hundred and fifty acres of our own measure. The seat of
+Turkish jealousy and despotism is erected on the foundations of a
+Grecian republic; but it may be supposed that the Byzantines were
+tempted by the conveniency of the harbor to extend their habitations on
+that side beyond the modern limits of the Seraglio. The new walls of
+Constantine stretched from the port to the Propontis across the enlarged
+breadth of the triangle, at a distance of fifteen stadia from the
+ancient fortification; and with the city of Byzantium they inclosed five
+of the seven hills which, to the eyes of those who approach
+Constantinople, appear to rise above each other in beautiful order.
+About a century after the death of the founder, the new buildings,
+extending on one side up the harbor and on the other along the
+Propontis, already covered the narrow ridge of the sixth and the broad
+summit of the seventh hill. The necessity of protecting those suburbs
+from the incessant inroads of the barbarians engaged the younger
+Theodosius to surround his capital with an adequate and permanent
+inclosure of walls. From the eastern promontory to the Golden Gate, the
+extreme length of Constantinople was about three Roman miles; the
+circumference measured between ten and eleven, and the surface might be
+computed as equal to about two thousand English acres. It is impossible
+to justify the vain and credulous exaggerations of modern travelers, who
+have sometimes stretched the limits of Constantinople over the adjacent
+villages of the European, and even of the Asiatic coast. But the suburbs
+of Pera and Galata, though situate beyond the harbor, may deserve to be
+considered as a part of the city; and this addition may perhaps
+authorize the measure of a Byzantine historian, who assigns sixteen
+Greek (about fourteen Roman) miles for the circumference of his native
+city. Such an extent may not seem unworthy of an imperial residence. Yet
+Constantinople must yield to Babylon and Thebes, to ancient Rome, to
+London, and even to Paris.
+
+The master of the Roman world, who aspired to erect an eternal monument
+of the glories of his reign, could employ in the prosecution of that
+great work the wealth, the labor, and all that yet remained of the
+genius of obedient millions. Some estimate may be formed of the expense
+bestowed with imperial liberality on the foundation of Constantinople,
+by the allowance of about two millions five hundred thousand pounds for
+the construction of the walls, the porticos, and the aqueducts. The
+forests that overshadowed the shores of the Euxine, and the celebrated
+quarries of white marble in the little island of Proconnesus, supplied
+an inexhaustible stock of materials, ready to be conveyed, by the
+convenience of a short water carriage, to the harbor of Byzantium. A
+multitude of laborers and artificers urged the conclusion of the work
+with incessant toil; but the impatience of Constantine soon discovered
+that, in the decline of the arts, the skill as well as numbers of his
+architects bore a very unequal proportion to the greatness of his
+designs. The magistrates of the most distant provinces were therefore
+directed to institute schools, to appoint professors, and by the hopes
+of rewards and privileges to engage in the study and practice of
+architecture a sufficient number of ingenious youths who had received a
+liberal education. The buildings of the new city were executed by such
+artificers as the reign of Constantine could afford; but they were
+decorated by the hands of the most celebrated masters of the age of
+Pericles and Alexander. To revive the genius of Phidias and Lysippus
+surpassed indeed the power of a Roman emperor; but the immortal
+productions which they had bequeathed to posterity were exposed without
+defense to the rapacious vanity of a despot. By his commands the cities
+of Greece and Asia were despoiled of their most valuable ornaments. The
+trophies of memorable wars, the objects of religious veneration, the
+most finished statues of the gods and heroes, of the sages and poets of
+ancient times, contributed to the splendid triumph of Constantinople,
+and gave occasion to the remark of the historian Cedrenus, who observes
+with some enthusiasm that nothing seemed wanting except the souls of the
+illustrious men whom these admirable monuments were intended to
+represent. But it is not in the city of Constantine, nor in the
+declining period of an empire, when the human mind was depressed by
+civil and religious slavery, that we should seek for the souls of Homer
+and of Demosthenes.
+
+During the siege of Byzantium, the conqueror had pitched his tent on the
+commanding eminence of the second hill. To perpetuate the memory of his
+success, he chose the same advantageous position for the principal
+Forum, which appears to have been of a circular or rather elliptical
+form. The two opposite entrances formed triumphal arches; the porticos
+which inclosed it on every side were filled with statues; and the
+centre of the Forum was occupied by a lofty column, of which a mutilated
+fragment is now degraded by the appellation of the _burnt pillar_. This
+column was erected on a pedestal of white marble twenty feet high, and
+was composed of ten pieces of porphyry, each of which measured about ten
+feet in height and about thirty-three in circumference. On the summit of
+the pillar, above one hundred and twenty feet from the ground, stood the
+colossal statue of Apollo. It was of bronze, had been transported either
+from Athens or from a town of Phrygia, and was supposed to be the work
+of Phidias. The artist had represented the god of day, or as it was
+afterwards interpreted, the Emperor Constantine himself with a sceptre
+in his right hand, the globe of the world in his left, and a crown of
+rays glittering on his head. The Circus, or Hippodrome, was a stately
+building about four hundred paces in length and one hundred in breadth.
+The space between the two _metae_ or goals was filled with statues and
+obelisks; and we may still remark a very singular fragment of
+antiquity--the bodies of three serpents twisted into one pillar of
+brass. Their triple heads had once supported the golden tripod which,
+after the defeat of Xerxes, was consecrated in the temple of Delphi by
+the victorious Greeks. The beauty of the Hippodrome has been long since
+defaced by the rude hands of the Turkish conquerors; but under the
+similar appellation of Atmeidan, it still serves as a place of exercise
+for their horses. From the throne whence the Emperor viewed the
+Circensian games, a winding staircase descended to the palace: a
+magnificent edifice which scarcely yielded to the residence of Rome
+itself, and which, together with the dependent courts, gardens, and
+porticos, covered a considerable extent of ground upon the banks of
+the Propontis between the Hippodrome and the church of St. Sophia.
+We might likewise celebrate the baths, which still retained the name
+of Zeuxippus, after they had been enriched by the munificence of
+Constantine with lofty columns, various marbles, and above threescore
+statues of bronze. But we should deviate from the design of this history
+if we attempted minutely to describe the different buildings or quarters
+of the city. It may be sufficient to observe that whatever could adorn
+the dignity of a great capital, or contribute to the benefit or pleasure
+of its numerous inhabitants, was contained within the walls of
+Constantinople. A particular description, composed about a century after
+its foundation, enumerates a capitol or school of learning, a circus,
+two theatres, eight public and one hundred and fifty-three private
+baths, fifty-two porticos, five granaries, eight aqueducts or reservoirs
+of water, four spacious halls for the meetings of the senate or courts
+of justice, fourteen churches, fourteen palaces, and four thousand three
+hundred and eighty-eight houses which for their size or beauty deserved
+to be distinguished from the multitude of plebeian habitations.
+
+The populousness of his favored city was the next and most serious
+object of the attention of its founder. In the dark ages which succeeded
+the translation of the empire, the remote and the immediate consequences
+of that memorable event were strangely confounded by the vanity of the
+Greeks and the credulity of the Latins. It was asserted and believed
+that all the noble families of Rome, the Senate, and the equestrian
+order, with their innumerable attendants, had followed their Emperor to
+the banks of the Propontis; that a spurious race of strangers and
+plebeians was left to possess the solitude of the ancient capital; and
+that the lands of Italy, long since converted into gardens, were at once
+deprived of cultivation and inhabitants. In the course of this history
+such exaggerations will be reduced to their just value: yet, since the
+growth of Constantinople cannot be ascribed to the general increase of
+mankind and of industry, it must be admitted that this artificial colony
+was raised at the expense of the ancient cities of the empire. Many
+opulent senators of Rome and of the eastern provinces were probably
+invited by Constantine to adopt for their country the fortunate spot
+which he had chosen for his own residence. The invitations of a master
+are scarcely to be distinguished from commands; and the liberality of
+the Emperor obtained a ready and cheerful obedience. He bestowed on his
+favorites the palaces which he had built in the several quarters of the
+city, assigned them lands and pensions for the support of their dignity,
+and alienated the demesnes of Pontus and Asia to grant hereditary
+estates by the easy tenure of maintaining a house in the capital. But
+these encouragements and obligations soon became superfluous, and were
+gradually abolished. Wherever the seat of government is fixed, a
+considerable part of the public revenue will be expended by the prince
+himself, by his ministers, by the officers of justice, and by the
+domestics of the palace. The most wealthy of the provincials will be
+attracted by the powerful motives of interest and duty, of amusement
+and curiosity. A third and more numerous class of inhabitants will
+insensibly be formed, of servants, of artificers, and of merchants, who
+derive their subsistence from their own labor and from the wants or
+luxury of the superior ranks. In less than a century Constantinople
+disputed with Rome itself the pre-eminence of riches and numbers. New
+piles of buildings, crowded together with too little regard to health or
+convenience, scarcely allowed the intervals of narrow streets for the
+perpetual throng of men, of horses, and of carriages. The allotted space
+of ground was insufficient to contain the increasing people; and the
+additional foundations, which on either side were advanced into the sea,
+might alone have composed a very considerable city.
+
+The frequent and regular distributions of wine and oil, of corn or
+bread, of money or provisions, had almost exempted the poorer citizens
+of Rome from the necessity of labor. The magnificence of the first
+Caesars was in some measure imitated by the founder of Constantinople;
+but his liberality, however it might excite the applause of the people,
+has incurred the censure of posterity. A nation of legislators and
+conquerors might assert their claim to the harvests of Africa, which had
+been purchased with their blood; and it was artfully contrived by
+Augustus that in the enjoyment of plenty the Romans should lose the
+memory of freedom. But the prodigality of Constantine could not be
+excused by any consideration either of public or private interest; and
+the annual tribute of corn imposed upon Egypt for the benefit of his new
+capital was applied to feed a lazy and insolent populace at the expense
+of the husbandmen of an industrious province. Some other regulations of
+this Emperor are less liable to blame, but they are less deserving of
+notice. He divided Constantinople into fourteen regions or quarters,
+dignified the public council with the appellation of senate,
+communicated to the citizens the privileges of Italy, and bestowed on
+the rising city the title of colony, the first and most favored daughter
+of ancient Rome. The venerable parent still maintained the legal and
+acknowledged supremacy which was due to her age, her dignity, and to the
+remembrance of her former greatness.
+
+As Constantine urged the progress of the work with the impatience of a
+lover, the walls, the porticos, and the principal edifices were
+completed in a few years, or according to another account, in a few
+months; but this extraordinary diligence should excite the less
+admiration, since many of the buildings were finished in so hasty and
+imperfect a manner that under the succeeding reign they were preserved
+with difficulty from impending ruin. But while they displayed the vigor
+and freshness of youth, the founder prepared to celebrate the dedication
+of his city. The games and largesses which crowned the pomp of this
+memorable festival may easily be supposed; but there is one circumstance
+of a more singular and permanent nature which ought not entirely to be
+overlooked. As often as the birthday of the city returned, the statue of
+Constantine, framed by his order, of gilt wood, and bearing in its right
+hand a small image of the genius of the place, was erected on a
+triumphal car. The guards, carrying white tapers and clothed in their
+richest apparel, accompanied the solemn procession as it moved through
+the Hippodrome. When it was opposite to the throne of the reigning
+emperor, he rose from his seat, and with grateful reverence adored the
+memory of his predecessor. At the festival of the dedication an edict,
+engraved on a column of marble, bestowed the title of SECOND or NEW ROME
+on the city of Constantine. But the name of Constantinople has prevailed
+over that honorable epithet, and after the revolution of fourteen
+centuries still perpetuates the fame of its author.
+
+
+
+CHARACTER OF CONSTANTINE
+
+
+The character of the prince who removed the seat of empire, and
+introduced such important changes into the civil and religious
+constitution of his country, has fixed the attention and divided the
+opinions of mankind. By the grateful zeal of the Christians, the
+deliverer of the Church has been decorated with every attribute of a
+hero and even of a saint, while the discontent of the vanquished party
+has compared Constantine to the most abhorred of those tyrants who by
+their vice and weakness dishonored the imperial purple. The same
+passions have in some degree been perpetuated to succeeding generations,
+and the character of Constantine is considered, even in the present age,
+as an object either of satire or of panegyric. By the impartial union of
+those defects which are confessed by his warmest admirers, and of those
+virtues which are acknowledged by his most implacable enemies, we might
+hope to delineate a just portrait of that extraordinary man which the
+truth and candor of history should adopt without a blush. But it would
+soon appear, that the vain attempt to blend such discordant colors and
+to reconcile such inconsistent qualities must produce a figure monstrous
+rather than human, unless it is viewed in its proper and distinct
+lights, by a careful separation of the different periods of the reign of
+Constantine.
+
+The person as well as the mind of Constantine had been enriched by
+nature with her choicest endowments. His stature was lofty, his
+countenance majestic, his deportment graceful, his strength and activity
+were displayed in every manly exercise, and from his earliest youth to a
+very advanced season of life he preserved the vigor of his constitution
+by a strict adherence to the domestic virtues of chastity and
+temperance. He delighted in the social intercourse of familiar
+conversation; and though he might sometimes indulge his disposition to
+raillery with less reserve than was required by the severe dignity of
+his station, the courtesy and liberality of his manners gained the
+hearts of all who approached him. The sincerity of his friendship has
+been suspected; yet he showed on some occasions that he was not
+incapable of a warm and lasting attachment. The disadvantage of an
+illiterate education had not prevented him from forming a just estimate
+of the value of learning; and the arts and sciences derived some
+encouragement from the munificent protection of Constantine. In the
+dispatch of business, his diligence was indefatigable; and the active
+powers of his mind were almost continually exercised in reading,
+writing, or meditating, in giving audience to ambassadors, and in
+examining the complaints of his subjects. Even those who censured the
+propriety of his measures were compelled to acknowledge that he
+possessed magnanimity to conceive and patience to execute the most
+arduous designs, without being checked either by the prejudices of
+education or by the clamors of the multitude. In the field he infused
+his own intrepid spirit into the troops, whom he conducted with the
+talents of a consummate general; and to his abilities, rather than to
+his fortune, we may ascribe the signal victories which he obtained over
+the foreign and domestic foes of the republic. He loved glory as the
+reward, perhaps as the motive, of his labors. The boundless ambition
+which, from the moment of his accepting the purple at York, appears as
+the ruling passion of his soul, may be justified by the dangers of his
+own situation, by the character of his rivals, by the consciousness of
+superior merit, and by the prospect that his success would enable him to
+restore peace and order to the distracted empire. In his civil wars
+against Maxentius and Licinius he had engaged on his side the
+inclinations of the people, who compared the undissembled vices of those
+tyrants with the spirit of wisdom and justice which seemed to direct the
+general tenor of the administration of Constantine.
+
+Had Constantine fallen on the banks of the Tiber, or even in the plains
+of Hadrianople, such is the character which, with a few exceptions, he
+might have transmitted to posterity. But the conclusion of his reign
+(according to the moderate and indeed tender sentence of a writer of the
+same age) degraded him from the rank which he had acquired among the
+most deserving of the Roman princes. In the life of Augustus we behold
+the tyrant of the republic converted, almost by imperceptible degrees,
+into the father of his country and of human kind. In that of Constantine
+we may contemplate a hero who had so long inspired his subjects with
+love and his enemies with terror, degenerating into a cruel and
+dissolute monarch, corrupted by his fortune or raised by conquest above
+the necessity of dissimulation. The general peace which he maintained
+during the last fourteen years of his reign was a period of apparent
+splendor rather than of real prosperity; and the old age of Constantine
+was disgraced by the opposite yet reconcilable vices of rapaciousness
+and prodigality. The accumulated treasures found in the palaces of
+Maxentius and Licinius were lavishly consumed; the various innovations
+introduced by the conqueror were attended with an increasing expense;
+the cost of his buildings, his court, and his festivals required an
+immediate and plentiful supply; and the oppression of the people was the
+only fund which could support the magnificence of the sovereign. His
+unworthy favorites, enriched by the boundless liberality of their
+master, usurped with impunity the privilege of rapine and corruption. A
+secret but universal decay was felt in every part of the public
+administration; and the Emperor himself, though he still retained the
+obedience, gradually lost the esteem of his subjects. The dress and
+manners which towards the decline of life he chose to affect, served
+only to degrade him in the eyes of mankind. The Asiatic pomp which had
+been adopted by the pride of Diocletian assumed an air of softness and
+effeminacy in the person of Constantine. He is represented with false
+hair of various colors, laboriously arranged by the skillful artists of
+the times; a diadem of a new and more expensive fashion; a profusion of
+gems and pearls, of collars and bracelets, and a variegated flowing robe
+of silk, most curiously embroidered with flowers of gold. In such
+apparel, scarcely to be excused by the youth and folly of Elagabulus, we
+are at a loss to discover the wisdom of an aged monarch and the
+simplicity of a Roman veteran. A mind thus relaxed by prosperity and
+indulgence was incapable of rising to that magnanimity which disdains
+suspicion and dares to forgive. The deaths of Maximian and Licinius may
+perhaps be justified by the maxims of policy as they are taught in the
+schools of tyrants; but an impartial narrative of the executions, or
+rather murders, which sullied the declining age of Constantine, will
+suggest to our most candid thoughts the idea of a prince who could
+sacrifice without reluctance the laws of justice and the feelings of
+nature, to the dictates either of his passions or of his interest.
+
+The same fortune which so invariably followed the standard of
+Constantine seemed to secure the hopes and comforts of his domestic
+life. Those among his predecessors who had enjoyed the longest and most
+prosperous reigns, Augustus, Trajan, and Diocletian, had been
+disappointed of posterity; and the frequent revolutions had never
+allowed sufficient time for any imperial family to grow up and multiply
+under the shade of the purple. But the royalty of the Flavian line,
+which had been first ennobled by the Gothic Claudius, descended through
+several generations; and Constantine himself derived from his royal
+father the hereditary honors which he transmitted to his children. The
+Emperor had been twice married. Minervina, the obscure but lawful object
+of his youthful attachment, had left him only one son, who was called
+Crispus. By Fausta, the daughter of Maximian, he had three daughters,
+and three sons known by the kindred names of Constantine, Constantius,
+and Constans. The unambitious brothers of the great Constantine, Julius
+Constantius, Dalmatius, and Hannibalianus, were permitted to enjoy the
+most honorable rank and the most affluent fortune that could be
+consistent with a private station. The youngest of the three lived
+without a name and died without posterity. His two elder brothers
+obtained in marriage the daughters of wealthy senators, and propagated
+new branches of the imperial race. Gallus and Julian afterwards became
+the most illustrious of the children of Julius Constantius the
+_Patrician_. The two sons of Dalmatius, who had been decorated with the
+vain title of _censor_, were named Dalmatius and Hannibalianus. The two
+sisters of the great Constantine, Anastasia and Eutropia, were bestowed
+on Optatus and Nepotianus, two senators of noble birth and of consular
+dignity. His third sister, Constantia, was distinguished by her
+pre-eminence of greatness and of misery. She remained the widow of the
+vanquished Licinius; and it was by her entreaties that an innocent boy,
+the offspring of their marriage, preserved for some time his life, the
+title of Caesar, and a precarious hope of the succession. Besides the
+females and the allies of the Flavian house, ten or twelve males to whom
+the language of modern courts would apply the title of princes of the
+blood, seemed, according to the order of their birth, to be destined
+either to inherit or to support the throne of Constantine. But in less
+than thirty years this numerous and increasing family was reduced to the
+persons of Constantius and Julian, who alone had survived a series of
+crimes and calamities such as the tragic poets have deplored in the
+devoted lines of Pelops and of Cadmus.
+
+
+
+DEATH OF JULIAN
+
+
+While Julian struggled with the almost insuperable difficulties of his
+situation, the silent hours of the night were still devoted to study and
+contemplation. Whenever he closed his eyes in short and interrupted
+slumbers, his mind was agitated with painful anxiety; nor can it be
+thought surprising that the Genius of the Empire should once more appear
+before him, covering with a funeral veil his head and his horn of
+abundance, and slowly retiring from the imperial tent. The monarch
+started from his couch, and stepping forth to refresh his wearied
+spirits with the coolness of the midnight air, he beheld a fiery meteor
+which shot athwart the sky and suddenly vanished. Julian was convinced
+that he had seen the menacing countenance of the god of war; the council
+which he summoned of Tuscan Haruspices unanimously pronounced that he
+should abstain from action; but on this occasion necessity and reason
+were more prevalent than superstition, and the trumpets sounded at the
+break of day. The army marched through a hilly country, and the hills
+had been secretly occupied by the Persians. Julian led the van with the
+skill and attention of a consummate general; he was alarmed by the
+intelligence that his rear was suddenly attacked. The heat of the
+weather had tempted him to lay aside his cuirass; but he snatched a
+shield from one of his attendants and hastened with a sufficient
+reinforcement to the relief of the rear guard. A similar danger recalled
+the intrepid prince to the defense of the front; and as he galloped
+between the columns, the centre of the left was attacked and almost
+overpowered by a furious charge of the Persian cavalry and elephants.
+This huge body was soon defeated by the well-timed evolution of the
+light infantry, who aimed their weapons, with dexterity and effect,
+against the backs of the horsemen and the legs of the elephants. The
+Barbarians fled; and Julian, who was foremost in every danger, animated
+the pursuit with his voice and gestures. His trembling guards, scattered
+and oppressed by the disorderly throng of friends and enemies, reminded
+their fearless sovereign that he was without armor, and conjured him to
+decline the fall of the impending ruin. As they exclaimed, a cloud of
+darts and arrows was discharged from the flying squadrons; and a
+javelin, after razing the skin of his arm, transpierced the ribs and
+fixed in the inferior part of the liver. Julian attempted to draw the
+deadly weapon from his side, but his fingers were cut by the sharpness
+of the steel, and he fell senseless from his horse. His guards flew to
+his relief, and the wounded Emperor was gently raised from the ground
+and conveyed out of the tumult of the battle into an adjacent tent. The
+report of the melancholy event passed from rank to rank; but the grief
+of the Romans inspired them with invincible valor and the desire of
+revenge. The bloody and obstinate conflict was maintained by the two
+armies till they were separated by the total darkness of the night. The
+Persians derived some honor from the advantage which they obtained
+against the left wing, where Anatolius, master of the offices, was
+slain, and the praefect Sallust very narrowly escaped. But the event of
+the day was adverse to the Barbarians. They abandoned the field, their
+two generals Meranes and Nohordates, fifty nobles or satraps, and a
+multitude of their bravest soldiers; and the success of the Romans, if
+Julian had survived, might have been improved into a decisive and useful
+victory.
+
+The first words that Julian uttered after his recovery from the fainting
+fit into which he had been thrown by loss of blood, were expressive of
+his martial spirit. He called for his horse and arms, and was impatient
+to rush into the battle. His remaining strength was exhausted by the
+painful effort, and the surgeons who examined his wound discovered the
+symptoms of approaching death. He employed the awful moments with the
+firm temper of a hero and a sage; the philosophers who had accompanied
+him in this fatal expedition compared the tent of Julian with the prison
+of Socrates; and the spectators whom duty or friendship or curiosity had
+assembled round his couch listened with respectful grief to the funeral
+oration of their dying emperor:--"Friends and fellow soldiers, the
+seasonable period of my departure is now arrived, and I discharge, with
+the cheerfulness of a ready debtor, the demands of nature. I have
+learned from philosophy how much the soul is more excellent than the
+body; and that the separation of the nobler substance should be the
+subject of joy rather than of affliction. I have learned from religion
+that an earthly death has often been the reward of piety; and I accept,
+as a favor of the gods, the mortal stroke that secures me from the
+danger of disgracing a character which has hitherto been supported by
+virtue and fortitude. I die without remorse, as I have lived without
+guilt. I am pleased to reflect on the innocence of my private life; and
+I can affirm with confidence that the supreme authority, that emanation
+of the Divine power, has been preserved in my hands pure and immaculate.
+Detesting the corrupt and destructive maxims of despotism, I have
+considered the happiness of the people as the end of government.
+Submitting my actions to the laws of prudence, of justice, and of
+moderation, I have trusted the event to the care of Providence. Peace
+was the object of my counsels as long as peace was consistent with the
+public welfare; but when the imperious voice of my country summoned me
+to arms, I exposed my person to the dangers of war with the clear
+foreknowledge (which I had acquired from the art of divination) that I
+was destined to fall by the sword. I now offer my tribute of gratitude
+to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered me to perish by the cruelty
+of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of conspiracy, or by the slow tortures
+of lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst of an honorable
+career, a splendid and glorious departure from this world; and I hold it
+equally absurd, equally base, to solicit or to decline the stroke of
+fate. Thus much I have attempted to say; but my strength fails me, and I
+feel the approach of death. I shall cautiously refrain from any word
+that may tend to influence your suffrages in the election of an emperor.
+My choice might be imprudent or injudicious; and if it should not be
+ratified by the consent of the army, it might be fatal to the person
+whom I should recommend. I shall only, as a good citizen, express my
+hopes that the Romans may be blessed with the government of a virtuous
+sovereign." After this discourse, which Julian pronounced in a firm and
+gentle tone of voice, he distributed by a military testament the remains
+of his private fortune; and making some inquiry why Anatolius was not
+present, he understood from the answer of Sallust that Anatolius was
+killed, and bewailed with amiable inconsistency the loss of his friend.
+At the same time he reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators, and
+conjured them not to disgrace by unmanly tears the fate of a prince who
+in a few moments would be united with heaven and with the stars. The
+spectators were silent; and Julian entered into a metaphysical argument
+with the philosophers Priscus and Maximus on the nature of the soul. The
+efforts which he made, of mind as well as body, most probably hastened
+his death. His wound began to bleed with fresh violence; his respiration
+was embarrassed by the swelling of the veins; he called for a draught of
+cold water, and as soon as he had drunk it expired without pain, about
+the hour of midnight. Such was the end of that extraordinary man, in the
+thirty-second year of his age, after a reign of one year and about eight
+months from the death of Constantius. In his last moments he displayed,
+perhaps with some ostentation, the love of virtue and of fame which had
+been the ruling passions of his life.
+
+
+
+THE FALL OF ROME
+
+
+At the hour of midnight the Salarian gate was silently opened, and the
+inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound of the Gothic trumpet.
+Eleven hundred and sixty-three years after the foundation of Rome, the
+imperial city which had subdued and civilized so considerable a part of
+mankind was delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Germany
+and Scythia.
+
+The proclamation of Alaric, when he forced his entrance into a
+vanquished city, discovered however some regard for the laws of
+humanity and religion. He encouraged his troops boldly to seize the
+rewards of valor, and to enrich themselves with the spoils of a wealthy
+and effeminate people; but he exhorted them at the same time to spare
+the lives of the unresisting citizens, and to respect the churches of
+the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul as holy and inviolable sanctuaries.
+Amidst the horrors of a nocturnal tumult, several of the Christian Goths
+displayed the fervor of a recent conversion; and some instances of their
+uncommon piety and moderation are related, and perhaps adorned, by the
+zeal of ecclesiastical writers. While the Barbarians roamed through the
+city in quest of prey, the humble dwelling of an aged virgin who had
+devoted her life to the service of the altar was forced open by one of
+the powerful Goths. He immediately demanded, though in civil language,
+all the gold and silver in her possession; and was astonished at the
+readiness with which she conducted him to a splendid hoard of massy
+plate of the richest materials and the most curious workmanship. The
+Barbarian viewed with wonder and delight this valuable acquisition, till
+he was interrupted by a serious admonition addressed to him in the
+following words: "These," said she, "are the consecrated vessels
+belonging to St. Peter; if you presume to touch them, the sacrilegious
+deed will remain on your conscience. For my part, I dare not keep what I
+am unable to defend." The Gothic captain, struck with reverential awe,
+dispatched a messenger to inform the King of the treasure which he had
+discovered, and received a peremptory order from Alaric that all the
+consecrated plate and ornaments should be transported, without damage or
+delay, to the church of the Apostle. From the extremity, perhaps, of the
+Quirinal hill, to the distant quarter of the Vatican, a numerous
+detachment of Goths, marching in order of battle through the principal
+streets, protected with glittering arms the long train of their devout
+companions, who bore aloft on their heads the sacred vessels of gold and
+silver; and the martial shouts of the Barbarians were mingled with the
+sound of religious psalmody. From all the adjacent houses a crowd of
+Christians hastened to join this edifying procession; and a multitude of
+fugitives, without distinction of age, or rank, or even of sect, had the
+good fortune to escape to the secure and hospitable sanctuary of the
+Vatican. The learned work 'Concerning the City of God' was professedly
+composed by St. Augustine to justify the ways of Providence in the
+destruction of the Roman greatness. He celebrates with peculiar
+satisfaction this memorable triumph of Christ, and insults his
+adversaries by challenging them to produce some similar example of a
+town taken by storm, in which the fabulous gods of antiquity had been
+able to protect either themselves or their deluded votaries.
+
+In the sack of Rome, some rare and extraordinary examples of Barbarian
+virtue have been deservedly applauded. But the holy precincts of the
+Vatican and the Apostolic churches could receive a very small proportion
+of the Roman people; many thousand warriors, more especially of the Huns
+who served under the standard of Alaric, were strangers to the name, or
+at least to the faith, of Christ; and we may suspect without any breach
+of charity or candor that in the hour of savage license, when every
+passion was inflamed and every restraint was removed, the precepts of
+the gospel seldom influenced the behavior of the Gothic Christians. The
+writers the best disposed to exaggerate their clemency have freely
+confessed that a cruel slaughter was made of the Romans, and that the
+streets of the city were filled with dead bodies, which remained without
+burial during the general consternation. The despair of the citizens was
+sometimes converted into fury; and whenever the Barbarians were provoked
+by opposition, they extended the promiscuous massacre to the feeble, the
+innocent, and the helpless. The private revenge of forty thousand slaves
+was exercised without pity or remorse; and the ignominious lashes which
+they had formerly received were washed away in the blood of the guilty
+or obnoxious families. The matrons and virgins of Rome were exposed to
+injuries more dreadful, in the apprehension of chastity, than death
+itself....
+
+The want of youth, or beauty, or chastity protected the greatest part of
+the Roman women from the danger of a rape. But avarice is an insatiate
+and universal passion, since the enjoyment of almost every object that
+can afford pleasure to the different tastes and tempers of mankind may
+be procured by the possession of wealth. In the pillage of Rome, a just
+preference was given to gold and jewels, which contain the greatest
+value in the smallest compass and weight; but after these portable
+riches had been removed by the more diligent robbers, the palaces of
+Rome were rudely stripped of their splendid and costly furniture. The
+sideboards of massy plate, and the variegated wardrobes of silk and
+purple, were irregularly piled in the wagons that always followed the
+march of a Gothic army. The most exquisite works of art were roughly
+handled or wantonly destroyed; many a statue was melted for the sake of
+the precious materials; and many a vase, in the division of the spoil,
+was shivered into fragments by the stroke of a battle-axe. The
+acquisition of riches served only to stimulate the avarice of the
+rapacious Barbarians, who proceeded by threats, by blows, and by
+tortures, to force from their prisoners the confession of hidden
+treasure. Visible splendor and expense were alleged as the proof of a
+plentiful fortune; the appearance of poverty was imputed to a
+parsimonious disposition; and the obstinacy of some misers, who endured
+the most cruel torments before they would discover the secret object of
+their affection, was fatal to many unhappy wretches, who expired under
+the lash for refusing to reveal their imaginary treasures. The edifices
+of Rome, though the damage has been much exaggerated, received some
+injury from the violence of the Goths. At their entrance through the
+Salarian gate, they fired the adjacent houses to guide their march and
+to distract the attention of the citizens; the flames, which encountered
+no obstacle in the disorder of the night, consumed many private and
+public buildings; and the ruins of the palace of Sallust remained, in
+the age of Justinian, a stately monument of the Gothic conflagration.
+Yet a contemporary historian has observed that fire could scarcely
+consume the enormous beams of solid brass, and that the strength of man
+was insufficient to subvert the foundations of ancient structures. Some
+truth may possibly be concealed in his devout assertion that the wrath
+of Heaven supplied the imperfections of hostile rage, and that the proud
+Forum of Rome, decorated with the statues of so many gods and heroes,
+was leveled in the dust by the stroke of lightning....
+
+It was not easy to compute the multitudes who, from an honorable station
+and a prosperous future, were suddenly reduced to the miserable
+condition of captives and exiles.... The nations who invaded the Roman
+empire had driven before them into Italy whole troops of hungry and
+affrighted provincials, less apprehensive of servitude than of famine.
+The calamities of Rome and Italy dispersed the inhabitants to the most
+lonely, the most secure, the most distant places of refuge.... The
+Italian fugitives were dispersed through the provinces, along the coast
+of Egypt and Asia, as far as Constantinople and Jerusalem; and the
+village of Bethlem, the solitary residence of St. Jerom and his female
+converts, was crowded with illustrious beggars of either sex and every
+age, who excited the public compassion by the remembrance of their past
+fortune. This awful catastrophe of Rome filled the astonished empire
+with grief and terror. So interesting a contrast of greatness and ruin
+disposed the fond credulity of the people to deplore, and even to
+exaggerate, the afflictions of the queen of cities. The clergy, who
+applied to recent events the lofty metaphors of Oriental prophecy, were
+sometimes tempted to confound the destruction of the capital and the
+dissolution of the globe.
+
+
+
+SILK
+
+
+I need not explain that _silk_ is originally spun from the bowels of a
+caterpillar, and that it composes the golden tomb from whence a worm
+emerges in the form of a butterfly. Till the reign of Justinian, the
+silkworms who feed on the leaves of the white mulberry-tree were
+confined to China; those of the pine, the oak, and the ash were common
+in the forests both of Asia and Europe: but as their education is more
+difficult, and their produce more uncertain, they were generally
+neglected, except in the little island of Ceos, near the coast of
+Attica. A thin gauze was procured from their webs, and this Cean
+manufacture, the invention of a woman, for female use, was long admired
+both in the East and at Rome. Whatever suspicions may be raised by the
+garments of the Medes and Assyrians, Virgil is the most ancient writer
+who expressly mentions the soft wool which was combed from the trees of
+the Seres or Chinese; and this natural error, less marvelous than the
+truth, was slowly corrected by the knowledge of a valuable insect, the
+first artificer of the luxury of nations. That rare and elegant luxury
+was censured, in the reign of Tiberius, by the gravest of the Romans;
+and Pliny, in affected though forcible language, has condemned the
+thirst of gain which explores the last confines of the earth for the
+pernicious purpose of exposing to the public eye naked draperies and
+transparent matrons. A dress which showed the turn of the limbs, the
+color of the skin, might gratify vanity or provoke desire; the silks
+which had been closely woven in China were sometimes unraveled by the
+Phoenician women, and the precious materials were multiplied by a
+looser texture and the intermixture of linen threads. Two hundred years
+after the age of Pliny the use of pure or even of mixed silks was
+confined to the female sex, till the opulent citizens of Rome and the
+provinces were insensibly familiarized with the example of Elagabalus,
+the first who, by this effeminate habit, had sullied the dignity of an
+emperor and a man. Aurelian complained that a pound of silk was sold at
+Rome for twelve ounces of gold; but the supply increased with the
+demand, and the price diminished with the supply. If accident or
+monopoly sometimes raised the value even above the standard of Aurelian,
+the manufacturers of Tyre and Berytus were sometimes compelled, by the
+operation of the same causes, to content themselves with a ninth part of
+that extravagant rate. A law was thought necessary to discriminate the
+dress of comedians from that of senators; and of the silk exported from
+its native country the far greater part was consumed by the subjects of
+Justinian. They were still more intimately acquainted with a shell-fish
+of the Mediterranean, surnamed the silkworm of the sea: the fine wool or
+hair by which the mother-of-pearl affixes itself to the rock is now
+manufactured for curiosity rather than use; and a robe obtained from the
+same singular materials was the gift of the Roman Emperor to the satraps
+of Armenia.
+
+A valuable merchandise of small bulk is capable of defraying the expense
+of land carriage; and the caravans traversed the whole latitude of Asia
+in two hundred and forty-three days from the Chinese Ocean to the
+sea-coast of Syria. Silk was immediately delivered to the Romans by the
+Persian merchants who frequented the fairs of Armenia and Nisibis; but
+this trade, which in the intervals of truce was oppressed by avarice and
+jealousy, was totally interrupted by the long wars of the rival
+monarchies. The great king might proudly number Sogdiana, and even
+_Serica_, among the provinces of his empire: but his real dominion was
+bounded by the Oxus; and his useful intercourse with the Sogdoites
+beyond the river depended on the pleasure of their conquerors the white
+Huns, and the Turks, who successively reigned over that industrious
+people. Yet the most savage dominion has not extirpated the seeds of
+agriculture and commerce, in a region which is celebrated as one of the
+four gardens of Asia; the cities of Samarcand and Bochara are
+advantageously seated for the exchange of its various productions; and
+their merchants purchased from the Chinese the raw or manufactured silk
+which they transported into Persia for the use of the Roman Empire. In
+the vain capital of China, the Sogdian caravans were entertained as the
+suppliant embassies of tributary kingdoms; and if they returned in
+safety, the bold adventure was rewarded with exorbitant gain. But the
+difficult and perilous march from Samarcand to the first town of Shensi
+could not be performed in less than sixty, eighty, or one hundred days:
+as soon as they had passed the Jaxartes they entered the desert; and the
+wandering hordes, unless they are restrained by armies and garrisons,
+have always considered the citizen and the traveler as the objects of
+lawful rapine. To escape the Tartar robbers and the tyrants of Persia,
+the silk caravans explored a more southern road; they traversed the
+mountains of Thibet, descended the streams of the Ganges or the Indus,
+and patiently expected, in the ports of Guzerat and Malabar, the annual
+fleets of the West. But the dangers of the desert were found less
+intolerable than toil, hunger, and the loss of time; the attempt was
+seldom renewed, and the only European who has passed that unfrequented
+way applauds his own diligence, that in nine months after his departure
+from Pekin, he reached the mouth of the Indus. The ocean, however, was
+open to the free communication of mankind. From the great river to the
+tropic of Cancer, the provinces of China were subdued and civilized by
+the emperors of the North; they were filled about the time of the
+Christian era with cities and men, mulberry-trees and their precious
+inhabitants; and if the Chinese, with the knowledge of the compass, had
+possessed the genius of the Greeks or Phoenicians, they might have
+spread their discoveries over the southern hemisphere. I am not
+qualified to examine, and I am not disposed to believe, their distant
+voyages to the Persian Gulf or the Cape of Good Hope; but their
+ancestors might equal the labors and success of the present race, and
+the sphere of their navigation might extend from the Isles of Japan to
+the Straits of Malacca,--the pillars, if we may apply that name, of an
+Oriental Hercules. Without losing sight of land, they might sail along
+the coast to the extreme promontory of Achin, which is annually visited
+by ten or twelve ships laden with the productions, the manufactures, and
+even the artificers of China; the Island of Sumatra and the opposite
+peninsula are faintly delineated as the regions of gold and silver; and
+the trading cities named in the geography of Ptolemy may indicate that
+this wealth was not solely derived from the mines. The direct interval
+between Sumatra and Ceylon is about three hundred leagues: the Chinese
+and Indian navigators were conducted by the flight of birds and
+periodical winds; and the ocean might be securely traversed in
+square-built ships, which instead of iron were sewed together with the
+strong thread of the cocoanut. Ceylon, Serendib, or Taprobana, was
+divided between two hostile princes; one of whom possessed the
+mountains, the elephants, and the luminous carbuncle, and the other
+enjoyed the more solid riches of domestic industry, foreign trade, and
+the capacious harbor of Trinquemale, which received and dismissed the
+fleets of the East and West. In this hospitable isle, at an equal
+distance (as it was computed) from their respective countries, the silk
+merchants of China, who had collected in their voyages aloes, cloves,
+nutmeg, and sandal-wood, maintained a free and beneficial commerce with
+the inhabitants of the Persian Gulf. The subjects of the great king
+exalted, without a rival, his power and magnificence; and the Roman, who
+confounded their vanity by comparing his paltry coin with a gold medal
+of the Emperor Anastasius, had sailed to Ceylon in an AEthiopian ship as
+a simple passenger.
+
+As silk became of indispensable use, the Emperor Justinian saw with
+concern that the Persians had occupied by land and sea the monopoly of
+this important supply, and that the wealth of his subjects was
+continually drained by a nation of enemies and idolaters. An active
+government would have restored the trade of Egypt and the navigation of
+the Red Sea, which had decayed with the prosperity of the empire; and
+the Roman vessels might have sailed, for the purchase of silk, to the
+ports of Ceylon, of Malacca, or even of China. Justinian embraced a more
+humble expedient, and solicited the aid of his Christian allies, the
+AEthiopians of Abyssinia, who had recently acquired the arts of
+navigation, the spirit of trade, and the seaport of Adulis, still
+decorated with the trophies of a Grecian conqueror. Along the African
+coast they penetrated to the Equator in search of gold, emeralds, and
+aromatics; but they wisely declined an unequal competition, in which
+they must be always prevented by the vicinity of the Persians to the
+markets of India; and the Emperor submitted to the disappointment till
+his wishes were gratified by an unexpected event. The gospel had been
+preached to the Indians; a bishop already governed the Christians of St.
+Thomas on the pepper coast of Malabar; a church was planted in Ceylon,
+and the missionaries pursued the footsteps of commerce to the
+extremities of Asia. Two Persian monks had long resided in China,
+perhaps in the royal city of Nankin, the seat of a monarch addicted to
+foreign superstitions, and who actually received an embassy from the
+Isle of Ceylon. Amidst their pious occupations they viewed with a
+curious eye the common dress of the Chinese, the manufactures of silk,
+and the myriads of silkworms, whose education (either on trees or in
+houses) had once been considered as the labor of queens. They soon
+discovered that it was impracticable to transport the short-lived
+insect, but that in the eggs a numerous progeny might be preserved and
+multiplied in a distant climate. Religion or interest had more power
+over the Persian monks than the love of their country: after a long
+journey they arrived at Constantinople, imparted their project to the
+Emperor, and were liberally encouraged by the gifts and promises of
+Justinian. To the historians of that prince, a campaign at the foot of
+Mount Caucasus has seemed more deserving of a minute relation than the
+labors of these missionaries of commerce, who again entered China,
+deceived a jealous people by concealing the eggs of the silkworm in a
+hollow cane, and returned in triumph with the spoils of the East. Under
+their direction the eggs were hatched at the proper season by the
+artificial heat of dung; the worms were fed with mulberry leaves; they
+lived and labored in a foreign climate; a sufficient number of
+butterflies were saved to propagate the race, and trees were planted to
+supply the nourishment of the rising generations. Experience and
+reflection corrected the errors of a new attempt, and the Sogdoite
+ambassadors acknowledged in the succeeding reign that the Romans were
+not inferior to the natives of China in the education of the insects and
+the manufactures of silk, in which both China and Constantinople have
+been surpassed by the industry of modern Europe. I am not insensible of
+the benefits of elegant luxury; yet I reflect with some pain that if the
+importers of silk had introduced the art of printing, already practiced
+by the Chinese, the comedies of Menander and the entire decades of Livy
+would have been perpetuated in the editions of the sixth century.
+
+
+
+MAHOMET'S DEATH AND CHARACTER
+
+
+Till the age of sixty-three years, the strength of Mahomet was equal to
+the temporal and spiritual fatigues of his mission. His epileptic fits,
+an absurd calumny of the Greeks, would be an object of pity rather than
+abhorrence; but he seriously believed that he was poisoned at Chaibar by
+the revenge of a Jewish female. During four years the health of the
+prophet declined; his infirmities increased; but his mortal disease was
+a fever of fourteen days which deprived him by intervals of the use of
+reason. As soon as he was conscious of his danger, he edified his
+brethren by the humility of his virtue or penitence. "If there be any
+man," said the apostle from the pulpit, "whom I have unjustly scourged,
+I submit my own back to the lash of retaliation. Have I aspersed the
+reputation of a Mussulman? let him proclaim _my_ thoughts in the face of
+the congregation. Has any one been despoiled of his goods? the little
+that I possess shall compensate the principal and the interest of the
+debt." "Yes," replied a voice from the crowd, "I am entitled to three
+drams of silver." Mahomet heard the complaint, satisfied the demand, and
+thanked his creditor for accusing him in this world rather than at the
+day of judgment. He beheld with temperate firmness the approach of
+death; enfranchised his slaves (seventeen men, as they are named, and
+eleven women), minutely directed the order of his funeral, and moderated
+the lamentations of his weeping friends, on whom he bestowed the
+benediction of peace. Till the third day before his death, he regularly
+performed the function of public prayer: the choice of Abubeker to
+supply his place appeared to mark that ancient and faithful friend as
+his successor in the sacerdotal and regal office; but he prudently
+declined the risk and envy of a more explicit nomination. At a moment
+when his faculties were visibly impaired, he called for pen and ink to
+write, or more properly, to dictate, a Divine book, the sum and
+accomplishment of all his revelations: a dispute arose in the chamber
+whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority of the Koran,
+and the prophet was forced to reprove the indecent vehemence of his
+disciples. If the slightest credit may be afforded to the traditions of
+his wives and companions, he maintained, in the bosom of his family, and
+to the last moments of his life, the dignity of an apostle and the faith
+of an enthusiast; described the visits of Gabriel, who bade an
+everlasting farewell to the earth, and expressed his lively confidence
+not only of the mercy but of the favor of the Supreme Being. In a
+familiar discourse he had mentioned his special prerogative, that the
+angel of death was not allowed to take his soul till he had respectfully
+asked the permission of the prophet. The request was granted; and
+Mahomet immediately fell into the agony of his dissolution: his head was
+reclined on the lap of Ayesha, the best beloved of all his wives; he
+fainted with the violence of pain; recovering his spirits, he raised his
+eyes towards the roof of the house, and with a steady look, though a
+faltering voice, uttered the last broken though articulate words:--"O
+God! ... pardon my sins ... Yes ... I come ... among my fellow-citizens
+on high;" and thus peaceably expired on a carpet spread upon the floor.
+An expedition for the conquest of Syria was stopped by this mournful
+event: the army halted at the gates of Medina, the chiefs were assembled
+round their dying master. The city, more especially the house, of the
+prophet, was a scene of clamorous sorrow or silent despair: fanaticism
+alone could suggest a ray of hope and consolation. "How can he be
+dead--our witness, our intercessor, our mediator with God? By God, he is
+not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is wrapped in a holy trance, and
+speedily will he return to his faithful people." The evidence of sense
+was disregarded, and Omar, unsheathing his cimeter, threatened to strike
+off the heads of the infidels who should dare to affirm that the prophet
+was no more. The tumult was appeased by the weight and moderation of
+Abubeker. "Is it Mahomet," said he to Omar and the multitude, "or the
+God of Mahomet, whom you worship? The God of Mahomet liveth forever; but
+the apostle was a mortal like ourselves, and according to his own
+prediction, he has experienced the common fate of mortality." He was
+piously interred by the hands of his nearest kinsman, on the same spot
+on which he expired. Medina has been sanctified by the death and burial
+of Mahomet, and the innumerable pilgrims of Mecca often turn aside from
+the way, to bow in voluntary devotion before the simple tomb of the
+prophet.
+
+At the conclusion of the life of Mahomet it may perhaps be expected that
+I should balance his faults and virtues, that I should decide whether
+the title of enthusiast or impostor more properly belongs to that
+extraordinary man. Had I been intimately conversant with the son of
+Abdallah, the task would still be difficult and the success uncertain:
+at the distance of twelve centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade
+through a cloud of religious incense; and could I truly delineate the
+portrait of an hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to
+the solitary of Mount Hera, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the
+conqueror of Arabia. The author of a mighty revolution appears to have
+been endowed with a pious and contemplative disposition; so soon as
+marriage had raised him above the pressure of want, he avoided the paths
+of ambition and avarice; and till the age of forty he lived with
+innocence, and would have died without a name. The unity of God is an
+idea most congenial to nature and reason; and a slight conversation with
+the Jews and Christians would teach him to despise and detest the
+idolatry of Mecca. It was the duty of a man and a citizen to impart the
+doctrine of salvation, to rescue his country from the dominion of sin
+and error. The energy of a mind incessantly bent on the same object
+would convert a general obligation into a particular call; the warm
+suggestions of the understanding or the fancy would be felt as the
+inspirations of Heaven; the labor of thought would expire in rapture and
+vision; and the inward sensation, the invisible monitor, would be
+described with the form and attributes of an angel of God. From
+enthusiasm to imposture the step is perilous and slippery: the daemon of
+Socrates affords a memorable instance how a wise man may deceive
+himself, how a good man may deceive others, how the conscience may
+slumber in a mixed and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary
+fraud. Charity may believe that the original motives of Mahomet were
+those of pure and genuine benevolence; but a human missionary is
+incapable of cherishing the obstinate unbelievers who reject his claims,
+despise his arguments, and persecute his life; he might forgive his
+personal adversaries, he may lawfully hate the enemies of God; the stern
+passions of pride and revenge were kindled in the bosom of Mahomet, and
+he sighed, like the prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of the
+rebels whom he had condemned. The injustice of Mecca and the choice of
+Medina transformed the citizen into a prince, the humble preacher into
+the leader of armies; but his sword was consecrated by the example of
+the saints, and the same God who afflicts a sinful world with pestilence
+and earthquakes might inspire for their conversion or chastisement the
+valor of his servants. In the exercise of political government, he was
+compelled to abate of the stern rigor of fanaticism, to comply in some
+measure with the prejudices and passions of his followers, and to employ
+even the vices of mankind as the instruments of their salvation. The use
+of fraud and perfidy, of cruelty and injustice, were often subservient
+to the propagation of the faith; and Mahomet commanded or approved the
+assassination of the Jews and idolaters who had escaped from the field
+of battle. By the repetition of such acts the character of Mahomet must
+have been gradually stained; and the influence of such pernicious habits
+would be poorly compensated by the practice of the personal and social
+virtues which are necessary to maintain the reputation of a prophet
+among his sectaries and friends. Of his last years, ambition was the
+ruling passion; and a politician will suspect that he secretly smiled
+(the victorious impostor!) at the enthusiasm of his youth and the
+credulity of his proselytes. A philosopher will observe that _their_
+credulity and _his_ success would tend more strongly to fortify the
+assurance of his Divine mission; that his interest and religion were
+inseparately connected; and that his conscience would be soothed by the
+persuasion that he alone was absolved by the Deity from the obligation
+of positive and moral laws. If he retained any vestige of his native
+innocence, the sins of Mahomet may be allowed as an evidence of his
+sincerity. In the support of truth, the arts of fraud and fiction may be
+deemed less criminal; and he would have started at the foulness of the
+means, had he not been satisfied of the importance and justice of the
+end. Even in a conqueror or a priest, I can surprise a word or action of
+unaffected humanity; and the decree of Mahomet that in the sale of
+captives the mothers should never be separated from their children, may
+suspend or moderate the censure of the historian.
+
+The good sense of Mahomet despised the pomp of royalty; the apostle of
+God submitted to the menial offices of the family; he kindled the fire,
+swept the floor, milked the ewes, and mended with his own hands his
+shoes and his woolen garment. Disdaining the penance and merit of a
+hermit, he observed, without effort or vanity, the abstemious diet of an
+Arab and a soldier. On solemn occasions he feasted his companions with
+rustic and hospitable plenty; but in his domestic life, many weeks would
+elapse without a fire being kindled on the hearth of the prophet. The
+interdiction of wine was confirmed by his example; his hunger was
+appeased with a sparing allowance of barley bread; he delighted in the
+taste of milk and honey, but his ordinary food consisted of dates and
+water. Perfumes and women were the two sensual enjoyments which his
+nature required and his religion did not forbid; and Mahomet affirmed
+that the fervor of his devotion was increased by these innocent
+pleasures. The heat of the climate inflames the blood of the Arabs, and
+their libidinous complexion has been noticed by the writers of
+antiquity. Their incontinence was regulated by the civil and religious
+laws of the Koran; their incestuous alliances were blamed; the boundless
+license of polygamy was reduced to four legitimate wives or concubines:
+their rights both of bed and of dowry were equitably determined; the
+freedom of divorce was discouraged; adultery was condemned as a capital
+offense; and fornication in either sex was punished with a hundred
+stripes. Such were the calm and rational precepts of the legislator, but
+in his private conduct Mahomet indulged the appetites of a man and
+abused the claims of a prophet. A special revelation dispensed him from
+the laws which he had imposed on his nation: the female sex, without
+reserve, was abandoned to his desires; and this singular prerogative
+excited the envy rather than the scandal, the veneration rather than the
+envy, of the devout Mussulmans. If we remember the seven hundred wives
+and three hundred concubines of the wise Solomon, we shall applaud the
+modesty of the Arabian, who espoused no more than seventeen or fifteen
+wives; eleven are enumerated, who occupied at Medina their separate
+apartments round the house of the apostle, and enjoyed in their turns
+the favor of his conjugal society. What is singular enough, they were
+all widows, excepting only Ayesha, the daughter of Abubeker. _She_ was
+doubtless a virgin, since Mahomet consummated his nuptials (such is the
+premature ripeness of the climate) when she was only nine years of age.
+The youth, the beauty, the spirit of Ayesha gave her a superior
+ascendant; she was beloved and trusted by the prophet, and after his
+death the daughter of Abubeker was long revered as the mother of the
+faithful. Her behavior had been ambiguous and indiscreet; in a nocturnal
+march she was accidentally left behind, and in the morning Ayesha
+returned to the camp with a man. The temper of Mahomet was inclined to
+jealousy; but a Divine revelation assured him of her innocence: he
+chastised her accusers, and published a law of domestic peace, that no
+woman should be condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her in the
+act of adultery. In his adventures with Zeineb the wife of Zeid, and
+with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the interest
+of his reputation. At the house of Zeid, his freedman and adopted son,
+he beheld in a loose undress the beauty of Zeineb, and burst forth into
+an ejaculation of devotion and desire. The servile, or grateful,
+freedman understood the hint, and yielded without hesitation to the love
+of his benefactor. But as the filial relation had excited some doubt and
+scandal, the angel Gabriel descended from heaven to ratify the deed, to
+annul the adoption, and gently to reprove the apostle for distrusting
+the indulgence of his God. One of his wives, Hafna the daughter of Omar,
+surprised him on her own bed, in the embraces of his Egyptian captive:
+she promised secrecy and forgiveness; he swore that he would renounce
+the possession of Mary. Both parties forgot their engagements; and
+Gabriel again descended with a chapter of the Koran, to absolve him from
+his oath and to exhort him freely to enjoy his captives and concubines,
+without listening to the clamors of his wives. In a solitary retreat of
+thirty days, he labored, alone with Mary, to fulfill the commands of the
+angel. When his love and revenge were satiated, he summoned to his
+presence his eleven wives, reproached their disobedience and
+indiscretion, and threatened them with a sentence of divorce, both in
+this world and in the next; a dreadful sentence, since those who had
+ascended the bed of the prophet were forever excluded from the hope of a
+second marriage. Perhaps the incontinence of Mahomet may be palliated by
+the tradition of his natural or preternatural gifts; he united the manly
+virtue of thirty of the children of Adam; and the apostle might rival
+the thirteenth labor of the Grecian Hercules. A more serious and decent
+excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to Cadijah. During the twenty-four
+years of their marriage, her youthful husband abstained from the right
+of polygamy, and the pride or tenderness of the venerable matron was
+never insulted by the society of a rival. After her death he placed her
+in the rank of the four perfect women, with the sister of Moses, the
+mother of Jesus, and Fatima, the best beloved of his daughters. "Was she
+not old?" said Ayesha, with the insolence of a blooming beauty: "has not
+God given you a better in her place?" "No, by God," said Mahomet, with
+an effusion of honest gratitude, "there never can be a better! She
+believed in me when men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was
+poor and persecuted by the world."
+
+
+
+THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY
+
+
+I should deceive the expectation of the reader if I passed in silence
+the fate of the Alexandrian library as it is described by the learned
+Abulpharagius. The spirit of Amrou was more curious and liberal than
+that of his brethren, and in his leisure hours the Arabian chief was
+pleased with the conversation of John, the last disciple of Ammonius,
+and who derived the surname of _Philoponus_ from his laborious studies
+of grammar and philosophy. Emboldened by this familiar intercourse,
+Philoponus presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in _his_ opinion,
+contemptible in that of the Barbarians--the royal library, which alone
+among the spoils of Alexandria had not been appropriated by the visit
+and the seal of the conqueror. Amrou was inclined to gratify the wish of
+the grammarian, but his rigid integrity refused to alienate the minutest
+object without the consent of the caliph; and the well-known answer of
+Omar was inspired by the ignorance of a fanatic: "If these writings of
+the Greeks agree with the book of God, they are useless, and need not be
+preserved; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be
+destroyed." The sentence was executed with blind obedience, the volumes
+of paper or parchment were distributed to the four thousand baths of the
+city; and such was their incredible multitude, that six months were
+barely sufficient for the consumption of this precious fuel. Since the
+Dynasties of Abulpharagius have been given to the world in a Latin
+version, the tale has been repeatedly transcribed; and every scholar,
+with pious indignation, has deplored the irreparable shipwreck of the
+learning, the arts, and the genius, of antiquity. For my own part, I am
+strongly tempted to deny both the fact and the consequences. The fact is
+indeed marvelous. "Read and wonder!" says the historian himself; and the
+solitary report of a stranger who wrote at the end of six hundred years
+on the confines of Media is overbalanced by the silence of two annalists
+of a more early date, both Christians, both natives of Egypt, and the
+most ancient of whom, the patriarch Eutychius, has amply described the
+conquest of Alexandria. The rigid sentence of Omar is repugnant to the
+sound and orthodox precept of the Mahometan casuists: they expressly
+declare that the religious books of the Jews and Christians which are
+acquired by the right of war should never be committed to the flames;
+and that the works of profane science, historians or poets, physicians
+or philosophers, may be lawfully applied to the use of the faithful. A
+more destructive zeal may perhaps be attributed to the first successors
+of Mahomet; yet in this instance, the conflagration would have speedily
+expired in the deficiency of materials. I shall not recapitulate the
+disasters of the Alexandrian library, the involuntary flame that was
+kindled by Caesar in his own defense, or the mischievous bigotry of the
+Christians, who studied to destroy the monuments of idolatry. But if we
+gradually descend from the age of the Antonines to that of Theodosius,
+we shall learn from a chain of contemporary witnesses that the royal
+palace and the temple of Serapis no longer contained the four, or the
+seven, hundred thousand volumes which had been assembled by the
+curiosity and magnificence of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and seat
+of the patriarchs might be enriched with a repository of books; but if
+the ponderous mass of Arian and Monophysite controversy were indeed
+consumed in the public baths, a philosopher may allow, with a smile,
+that it was ultimately devoted to the benefit of mankind. I sincerely
+regret the more valuable libraries which have been involved in the ruin
+of the Roman Empire; but when I seriously compute the lapse of ages, the
+waste of ignorance, and the calamities of war, our treasures, rather
+than our losses, are the objects of my surprise. Many curious and
+interesting facts are buried in oblivion; the three great historians of
+Rome have been transmitted to our hands in a mutilated state, and we are
+deprived of many pleasing compositions of the lyric, iambic, and
+dramatic poetry of the Greeks. Yet we should gratefully remember that
+the mischances of time and accident have spared the classic works to
+which the suffrage of antiquity had adjudged the first place of genius
+and glory; the teachers of ancient knowledge who are still extant had
+perused and compared the writings of their predecessors; nor can it
+fairly be presumed that any important truth, any useful discovery in art
+or nature, has been snatched away from the curiosity of modern ages.
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: _RUINED ROME._
+  From a Photograph.
+    TEMPLE OF ROMULUS
+    BASILICA OF CONSTANTINE
+    COLOSSEUM
+    ARCH OF TITUS]
+
+
+
+THE FINAL RUIN OF ROME
+
+
+In the last days of Pope Eugenius the Fourth, two of his servants, the
+learned Poggius and a friend, ascended the Capitoline Hill, reposed
+themselves among the ruins of columns and temples, and viewed from that
+commanding spot the wide and various prospect of desolation. The place
+and the object gave ample scope for moralizing on the vicissitudes of
+fortune, which spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which
+buries empires and cities in a common grave; and it was agreed that in
+proportion to her former greatness the fall of Rome was the more awful
+and deplorable. "Her primeval state, such as she might appear in a
+remote age, when Evander entertained the stranger of Troy, has been
+delineated by the fancy of Virgil. This Tarpeian Rock was then a savage
+and solitary thicket; in the time of the poet it was crowned with the
+golden roofs of a temple; the temple is overthrown, the gold has been
+pillaged, the wheel of fortune has accomplished her revolution, and the
+sacred ground is again disfigured with thorns and brambles. The hill of
+the Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman Empire,
+the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings; illustrated by the
+footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils and tributes of
+so many nations. This spectacle of the world, how is it fallen! how
+changed! how defaced! The path of victory is obliterated by vines, and
+the benches of the senators are concealed by a dunghill. Cast your eyes
+on the Palatine Hill, and seek among the shapeless and enormous
+fragments the marble theatre, the obelisks, the colossal statues, the
+porticos of Nero's palace; survey the other hills of the city,--the
+vacant space is interrupted only by ruins and gardens. The Forum of the
+Roman people, where they assembled to enact their laws and elect their
+magistrates, is now inclosed for the cultivation of pot-herbs, or thrown
+open for the reception of swine and buffaloes. The public and private
+edifices that were founded for eternity lie prostrate, naked, and
+broken, like the limbs of a mighty giant; and the ruin is the more
+visible, from the stupendous relics that have survived the injuries of
+time and fortune."
+
+These relics are minutely described by Poggius, one of the first who
+raised his eyes from the monuments of legendary to those of classic
+superstition. 1. Besides a bridge, an arch, a sepulchre, and the
+pyramid of Cestius, he could discern, of the age of the republic, a
+double row of vaults in the salt office of the Capitol, which were
+inscribed with the name and munificence of Catulus. 2. Eleven temples
+were visible in some degree, from the perfect form of the Pantheon to
+the three arches and a marble column of the temple of Peace which
+Vespasian erected after the civil wars and the Jewish triumph. 3. Of the
+number which he rashly defines, of seven _thermae_, or public baths, none
+were sufficiently entire to represent the use and distribution of the
+several parts; but those of Diocletian and Antoninus Caracalla still
+retained the titles of the founders and astonished the curious spectator
+who in observing their solidity and extent, the variety of marbles, the
+size and multitude of the columns, compared the labor and expense with
+the use and importance. Of the baths of Constantine, of Alexander, of
+Domitian, or rather of Titus, some vestige might yet be found. 4. The
+triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine were entire, both
+the structure and the inscriptions; a falling fragment was honored with
+the name of Trajan; and two arches then extant in the Flaminian Way have
+been ascribed to the baser memory of Faustina and Gallienus. 5. After
+the wonder of the Coliseum, Poggius might have overlooked a small
+amphitheatre of brick, most probably for the use of the praetorian camp;
+the theatres of Marcellus and Pompey were occupied in a great measure by
+public and private buildings; and in the Circus, Agonalis and Maximus,
+little more than the situation and the form could be investigated. 6.
+The columns of Trajan and Antonine were still erect; but the Egyptian
+obelisks were broken or buried. A people of gods and heroes, the
+workmanship of art, was reduced to one equestrian figure of gilt brass
+and to five marble statues, of which the most conspicuous were the two
+horses of Phidias and Praxiteles. 7. The two mausoleums or sepulchres of
+Augustus and Hadrian could not totally be lost; but the former was only
+visible as a mound of earth, and the latter, the castle of St. Angelo,
+had acquired the name and appearance of a modern fortress. With the
+addition of some separate and nameless columns, such were the remains of
+the ancient city; for the marks of a more recent structure might be
+detected in the walls, which formed a circumference of ten miles,
+included three hundred and seventy-nine turrets, and opened into the
+country by thirteen gates.
+
+This melancholy picture was drawn above nine hundred years after the
+fall of the Western Empire, and even of the Gothic kingdom of Italy. A
+long period of distress and anarchy, in which empire, and arts, and
+riches had migrated from the banks of the Tiber, was incapable of
+restoring or adorning the city; and as all that is human must retrograde
+if it do not advance, every successive age must have hastened the ruin
+of the works of antiquity. To measure the progress of decay, and to
+ascertain, at each era, the state of each edifice, would be an endless
+and a useless labor; and I shall content myself with two observations
+which will introduce a short inquiry into the general causes and
+effects. 1. Two hundred years before the eloquent complaint of Poggius,
+an anonymous writer composed a description of Rome. His ignorance may
+repeat the same objects under strange and fabulous names. Yet this
+barbarous topographer had eyes and ears; he could observe the visible
+remains; he could listen to the tradition of the people; and he
+distinctly enumerates seven theatres, eleven baths, twelve arches, and
+eighteen palaces, of which many had disappeared before the time of
+Poggius. It is apparent that many stately monuments of antiquity
+survived till a late period, and that the principles of destruction
+acted with vigorous and increasing energy in the thirteenth and
+fourteenth centuries. 2. The same reflection must be applied to the
+three last ages; and we should vainly seek the Septizonium of Severus,
+which is celebrated by Petrarch and the antiquarians of the sixteenth
+century. While the Roman edifices were still entire, the first blows,
+however weighty and impetuous, were resisted by the solidity of the mass
+and the harmony of the parts; but the slightest touch would precipitate
+the fragments of arches and columns that already nodded to their fall.
+
+After a diligent inquiry, I can discern four principal causes of the
+ruin of Rome, which continued to operate in a period of more than a
+thousand years. I. The injuries of time and nature. II. The hostile
+attacks of the Barbarians and Christians. III. The use and abuse of the
+materials. And IV. The domestic quarrels of the Romans.
+
+I. The art of man is able to construct monuments far more permanent than
+the narrow span of his own existence; yet these monuments, like himself,
+are perishable and frail; and in the boundless annals of time his life
+and his labors must equally be measured as a fleeting moment. Of a
+simple and solid edifice it is not easy, however, to circumscribe the
+duration. As the wonders of ancient days, the Pyramids attracted the
+curiosity of the ancients: a hundred generations, the leaves of autumn,
+have dropped into the grave; and after the fall of the Pharaohs and
+Ptolemies, the Caesars and caliphs, the same Pyramids stand erect and
+unshaken above the floods of the Nile. A complex figure of various and
+minute parts is more accessible to injury and decay; and the silent
+lapse of time is often accelerated by hurricanes and earthquakes, by
+fires and inundations. The air and earth have doubtless been shaken, and
+the lofty turrets of Rome have tottered from their foundations, but the
+seven hills do not appear to be placed on the great cavities of the
+globe; nor has the city in any age been exposed to the convulsions of
+nature which in the climate of Antioch, Lisbon, or Lima, have crumbled
+in a few moments the works of ages in the dust. Fire is the most
+powerful agent of life and death: the rapid mischief may be kindled and
+propagated by the industry or negligence of mankind; and every period of
+the Roman annals is marked by the repetition of similar calamities. A
+memorable conflagration, the guilt or misfortune of Nero's reign,
+continued, though with unequal fury, either six or nine days.
+Innumerable buildings, crowded in close and crooked streets, supplied
+perpetual fuel for the flames; and when they ceased, four only of the
+fourteen regions were left entire; three were totally destroyed, and
+seven were deformed by the relics of smoking and lacerated edifices. In
+the full meridian of empire, the metropolis arose with fresh beauty from
+her ashes; yet the memory of the old deplored the irreparable losses,
+the arts of Greece, the trophies of victory, the monuments of primitive
+or fabulous antiquity. In the days of distress and anarchy every wound
+is mortal, every fall irretrievable; nor can the damage be restored
+either by the public care of government or the activity of private
+interest. Yet two causes may be alleged, which render the calamity of
+fire more destructive to a flourishing than a decayed city. 1. The more
+combustible materials of brick, timber, and metals are first melted and
+consumed, but the flames may play without injury or effect on the naked
+walls and massy arches that have been despoiled of their ornaments. 2.
+It is among the common and plebeian habitations that a mischievous spark
+is most easily blown to a conflagration; but as soon as they are
+devoured, the greater edifices which have resisted or escaped are left
+as so many islands in a state of solitude and safety. From her
+situation, Rome is exposed to the danger of frequent inundations.
+Without excepting the Tiber, the rivers that descend from either side of
+the Apennine have a short and irregular course; a shallow stream in the
+summer heats; an impetuous torrent when it is swelled in the spring or
+winter by the fall of rain and the melting of the snows. When the
+current is repelled from the sea by adverse winds, when the ordinary bed
+is inadequate to the weight of waters, they rise above the banks and
+overspread without limits or control the plains and cities of the
+adjacent country. Soon after the triumph of the first Punic War, the
+Tiber was increased by unusual rains; and the inundation, surpassing all
+former measure of time and place, destroyed all the buildings that were
+situate below the hills of Rome. According to the variety of ground, the
+same mischief was produced by different means; and the edifices were
+either swept away by the sudden impulse, or dissolved and undermined by
+the long continuance of the flood. Under the reign of Augustus the same
+calamity was renewed: the lawless river overturned the palaces and
+temples on its banks; and after the labors of the Emperor in cleansing
+and widening the bed that was incumbered with ruins, the vigilance of
+his successors was exercised by similar dangers and designs. The project
+of diverting into new channels the Tiber itself, or some of the
+dependent streams, was long opposed by superstition and local interests;
+nor did the use compensate the toil and costs of the tardy and imperfect
+execution. The servitude of rivers is the noblest and most important
+victory which man has obtained over the licentiousness of nature; and if
+such were the ravages of the Tiber under a firm and active government,
+what could oppose, or who can enumerate, the injuries of the city after
+the fall of the Western Empire? A remedy was at length produced by the
+evil itself: the accumulation of rubbish and the earth that has been
+washed down from the hills is supposed to have elevated the plain of
+Rome fourteen or fifteen feet perhaps above the ancient level: and the
+modern city is less accessible to the attacks of the river.
+
+II. The crowd of writers of every nation who impute the destruction of
+the Roman monuments to the Goths and the Christians, have neglected to
+inquire how far they were animated by a hostile principle, and how far
+they possessed the means and the leisure to satiate their enmity. In the
+preceding volumes of this history I have described the triumph of
+barbarism and religion; and I can only resume in a few words their real
+or imaginary connection with the ruin of ancient Rome. Our fancy may
+create or adopt a pleasing romance: that the Goths and Vandals sallied
+from Scandinavia, ardent to avenge the flight of Odin, to break the
+chains and to chastise the oppressors of mankind; that they wished to
+burn the records of classic literature, and to found their national
+architecture on the broken members of the Tuscan and Corinthian orders.
+But in simple truth, the Northern conquerors were neither sufficiently
+savage nor sufficiently refined to entertain such aspiring ideas of
+destruction and revenge. The shepherds of Scythia and Germany had been
+educated in the armies of the Empire, whose discipline they acquired and
+whose weakness they invaded; with the familiar use of the Latin tongue,
+they had learned to reverence the name and titles of Rome; and though
+incapable of emulating, they were more inclined to admire than to
+abolish the arts and studies of a brighter period. In the transient
+possession of a rich and unresisting capital, the soldiers of Alaric and
+Genseric were stimulated by the passions of a victorious army; amidst
+the wanton indulgence of lust or cruelty, portable wealth was the object
+of their search; nor could they derive either pride or pleasure from the
+unprofitable reflection that they had battered to the ground the works
+of the consuls and Caesars. Their moments were indeed precious: the Goths
+evacuated Rome on the sixth, the Vandals on the fifteenth day, and
+though it be far more difficult to build than to destroy, their hasty
+assault would have made a slight impression on the solid piles of
+antiquity. We may remember that both Alaric and Genseric affected to
+spare the buildings of the city; that they subsisted in strength and
+beauty under the auspicious government of Theodoric; and that the
+momentary resentment of Totila was disarmed by his own temper and the
+advice of his friends and enemies. From these innocent Barbarians the
+reproach may be transferred to the Catholics of Rome. The statues,
+altars, and houses of the daemons were an abomination in their eyes; and
+in the absolute command of the city, they might labor with zeal and
+perseverance to erase the idolatry of their ancestors. The demolition of
+the temples in the East affords to _them_ an example of conduct, and to
+_us_ an argument of belief; and it is probable that a portion of guilt
+or merit may be imputed with justice to the Roman proselytes. Yet their
+abhorrence was confined to the monuments of heathen superstition; and
+the civil structures that were dedicated to the business or pleasure of
+society might be preserved without injury or scandal. The change of
+religion was accomplished not by a popular tumult, but by the decrees of
+the emperors, of the Senate, and of time. Of the Christian hierarchy,
+the bishops of Rome were commonly the most prudent and least fanatic;
+nor can any positive charge be opposed to the meritorious act of saving
+and converting the majestic structure of the Pantheon.
+
+III. The value of any object that supplies the wants or pleasures of
+mankind is compounded of its substance and its form, of the materials
+and the manufacture. Its price must depend on the number of persons by
+whom it may be acquired and used; on the extent of the market; and
+consequently on the ease or difficulty of remote exportation according
+to the nature of the commodity, its local situation, and the temporary
+circumstances of the world. The Barbarian conquerors of Rome usurped in
+a moment the toil and treasure of successive ages; but except the
+luxuries of immediate consumption, they must view without desire all
+that could not be removed from the city in the Gothic wagons or the
+fleet of the Vandals. Gold and silver were the first objects of their
+avarice; as in every country, and in the smallest compass, they
+represent the most ample command of the industry and possessions of
+mankind. A vase or a statue of those precious metals might tempt the
+vanity of some Barbarian chief; but the grosser multitude, regardless of
+the form, was tenacious only of the substance; and the melted ingots
+might be readily divided and stamped into the current coin of the
+empire. The less active or less fortunate robbers were reduced to the
+baser plunder of brass, lead, iron, and copper: whatever had escaped the
+Goths and Vandals was pillaged by the Greek tyrants; and the Emperor
+Constans in his rapacious visit stripped the bronze tiles from the roof
+of the Pantheon. The edifices of Rome might be considered as a vast and
+various mine: the first labor of extracting the materials was already
+performed; the metals were purified and cast; the marbles were hewn and
+polished; and after foreign and domestic rapine had been satiated, the
+remains of the city, could a purchaser have been found, were still
+venal. The monuments of antiquity had been left naked of their precious
+ornaments; but the Romans would demolish with their own hands the arches
+and walls, if the hope of profit could surpass the cost of the labor and
+exportation. If Charlemagne had fixed in Italy the seat of the Western
+Empire, his genius would have aspired to restore, rather than to
+violate, the works of the Caesars: but policy confined the French monarch
+to the forests of Germany; his taste could be gratified only by
+destruction; and the new palace of Aix-la-Chapelle was decorated with
+the marbles of Ravenna and Rome. Five hundred years after Charlemagne, a
+king of Sicily, Robert,--the wisest and most liberal sovereign of the
+age,--was supplied with the same materials by the easy navigation of the
+Tiber and the sea; and Petrarch sighs an indignant complaint that the
+ancient capital of the world should adorn from her own bowels the
+slothful luxury of Naples. But these examples of plunder or purchase
+were rare in the darker ages; and the Romans, alone and unenvied, might
+have applied to their private or public use the remaining structures of
+antiquity, if in their present form and situation they had not been
+useless in a great measure to the city and its inhabitants. The walls
+still described the old circumference, but the city had descended from
+the seven hills into the Campus Martius; and some of the noblest
+monuments which had braved the injuries of time were left in a desert,
+far remote from the habitations of mankind. The palaces of the senators
+were no longer adapted to the manners or fortunes of their indigent
+successors: the use of baths and porticos was forgotten; in the sixth
+century the games of the theatre, amphitheatre, and circus had been
+interrupted; some temples were devoted to the prevailing worship, but
+the Christian churches preferred the holy figure of the cross; and
+fashion, or reason, had distributed after a peculiar model the cells and
+offices of the cloister. Under the ecclesiastical reign, the number of
+these pious foundations was enormously multiplied; and the city was
+crowded with forty monasteries of men, twenty of women, and sixty
+chapters and colleges of canons and priests, who aggravated instead of
+relieving the depopulation of the tenth century. But if the forms of
+ancient architecture were disregarded by a people insensible of their
+use and beauty, the plentiful materials were applied to every call of
+necessity or superstition; till the fairest columns of the Ionic and
+Corinthian orders, the richest marbles of Paros and Numidia, were
+degraded, perhaps to the support of a convent or a stable. The daily
+havoc which is perpetrated by the Turks in the cities of Greece and Asia
+may afford a melancholy example; and in the gradual destruction of the
+monuments of Rome, Sixtus the Fifth may alone be excused for employing
+the stones of the Septizonium in the glorious edifice of St. Peter's.
+A fragment, a ruin, howsoever mangled or profaned, may be viewed with
+pleasure and regret; but the greater part of the marble was deprived of
+substance, as well as of place and proportion: it was burnt to lime for
+the purpose of cement. Since the arrival of Poggius, the temple of
+Concord and many capital structures had vanished from his eyes; and
+an epigram of the same age expresses a just and pious fear that the
+continuance of this practice would finally annihilate all the monuments
+of antiquity. The smallness of their numbers was the sole check on the
+demands and depredations of the Romans. The imagination of Petrarch
+might create the presence of a mighty people; and I hesitate to believe
+that even in the fourteenth century they could be reduced to a
+contemptible list of thirty-three thousand inhabitants. From that period
+to the reign of Leo the Tenth, if they multiplied to the amount of
+eighty-five thousand, the increase of citizens was in some degree
+pernicious to the ancient city.
+
+IV. I have reserved for the last, the most potent and forcible cause of
+destruction, the domestic hostilities of the Romans themselves. Under
+the dominion of the Greek and French emperors, the peace of the city was
+disturbed by accidental though frequent seditions: it is from the
+decline of the latter, from the beginning of the tenth century, that we
+may date the licentiousness of private war, which violated with impunity
+the laws of the Code and the gospel, without respecting the majesty of
+the absent sovereign or the presence and person of the vicar of Christ.
+In a dark period of five hundred years, Rome was perpetually afflicted
+by the sanguinary quarrels of the nobles and the people, the Guelphs and
+Ghibelines, the Colonna and Ursini; and if much has escaped the
+knowledge, and much is unworthy of the notice, of history, I have
+exposed in the two preceding chapters the causes and effects of the
+public disorders. At such a time, when every quarrel was decided by the
+sword and none could trust their lives or properties to the impotence of
+law, the powerful citizens were armed for safety, or offense, against
+the domestic enemies whom they feared or hated. Except Venice alone, the
+same dangers and designs were common to all the free republics of Italy;
+and the nobles usurped the prerogative of fortifying their houses and
+erecting strong towers that were capable of resisting a sudden attack.
+The cities were filled with these hostile edifices; and the example of
+Lucca, which contained three hundred towers, her law which confined
+their height to the measure of fourscore feet, may be extended with
+suitable latitude to the more opulent and populous States. The first
+step of the senator Brancaleone in the establishment of peace and
+justice, was to demolish (as we have already seen) one hundred and forty
+of the towers of Rome; and in the last days of anarchy and discord, as
+late as the reign of Martin the Fifth, forty-four still stood in one of
+the thirteen or fourteen regions of the city. To this mischievous
+purpose the remains of antiquity were most readily adapted: the temples
+and arches afforded a broad and solid basis for the new structures of
+brick and stone; and we can name the modern turrets that were raised on
+the triumphal monuments of Julius Caesar, Titus, and the Antonines. With
+some slight alterations, a theatre, an amphitheatre, a mausoleum, was
+transformed into a strong and spacious citadel. I need not repeat that
+the mole of Adrian has assumed the title and form of the castle of St.
+Angelo; the Septizonium of Severus was capable of standing against a
+royal army; the sepulchre of Metella has sunk under its outworks; the
+theatres of Pompey and Marcellus were occupied by the Savelli and Ursini
+families; and the rough fortress has been gradually softened to the
+splendor and elegance of an Italian palace. Even the churches were
+encompassed with arms and bulwarks, and the military engines on the roof
+of St. Peter's were the terror of the Vatican and the scandal of the
+Christian world. Whatever is fortified will be attacked; and whatever is
+attacked may be destroyed. Could the Romans have wrested from the popes
+the castle of St. Angelo, they had resolved by a public decree to
+annihilate that monument of servitude. Every building of defense was
+exposed to a siege; and in every siege the arts and engines of
+destruction were laboriously employed. After the death of Nicholas the
+Fourth, Rome, without a sovereign or a senate, was abandoned six months
+to the fury of civil war. "The houses," says a cardinal and poet of the
+times, "were crushed by the weight and velocity of enormous stones; the
+walls were perforated by the strokes of the battering-ram; the towers
+were involved in fire and smoke; and the assailants were stimulated by
+rapine and revenge." The work was consummated by the tyranny of the
+laws; and the factions of Italy alternately exercised a blind and
+thoughtless vengeance on their adversaries, whose houses and castles
+they razed to the ground. In comparing the _days_ of foreign, with the
+_ages_ of domestic hostility, we must pronounce that the latter have
+been far more ruinous to the city; and our opinion is confirmed by the
+evidence of Petrarch. "Behold," says the laureate, "the relics of Rome,
+the image of her pristine greatness! neither time nor the Barbarian can
+boast the merit of this stupendous destruction: it was perpetrated by
+her own citizens, by the most illustrious of her sons; and your
+ancestors [he writes to a noble Annibaldi] have done with battering-ram
+what the Punic hero could not accomplish with the sword." The influence
+of the two last principles of decay must in some degree be multiplied by
+each other, since the houses and towers which were subverted by civil
+war required a new and perpetual supply from the monuments of antiquity.
+
+These general observations may be separately applied to the amphitheatre
+of Titus, which has obtained the name of the Coliseum, either from its
+magnitude or from Nero's colossal statue; an edifice, had it been left
+to time and nature, which might perhaps have claimed an eternal
+duration. The curious antiquaries who have computed the numbers and
+seats are disposed to believe that above the upper row of stone steps
+the amphitheatre was encircled and elevated with several stages of
+wooden galleries, which were repeatedly consumed by fire, and restored
+by the emperors. Whatever was precious, or portable, or profane, the
+statues of gods and heroes, and the costly ornaments of sculpture which
+were cast in brass or overspread with leaves of silver and gold, became
+the first prey of conquest or fanaticism, of the avarice of the
+Barbarians or the Christians. In the massy stones of the Coliseum, many
+holes are discerned; and the two most probable conjectures represent the
+various accidents of its decay. These stones were connected by solid
+links of brass or iron, nor had the eye of rapine overlooked the value
+of the baser metals; the vacant space was converted into a fair or
+market; the artisans of the Coliseum are mentioned in an ancient survey;
+and the chasms were perforated or enlarged to receive the poles that
+supported the shops or tents of the mechanic trades. Reduced to its
+naked majesty, the Flavian amphitheatre was contemplated with awe and
+admiration by the pilgrims of the North; and their rude enthusiasm broke
+forth in a sublime proverbial expression, which is recorded in the
+eighth century, in the fragments of the venerable Bede: "As long as the
+Coliseum stands, Rome shall stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will
+fall; when Rome falls, the world will fall." In the modern system of war
+a situation commanded by the three hills would not be chosen for a
+fortress: but the strength of the walls and arches could resist the
+engines of assault; a numerous garrison might be lodged in the
+inclosure; and while one faction occupied the Vatican and the Capitol,
+the other was intrenched in the Lateran and the Coliseum.
+
+The abolition at Rome of the ancient games must be understood with some
+latitude; and the carnival sports of the Testacean Mount and the Circus
+Agonalis were regulated by the law or custom of the city. The senator
+presided with dignity and pomp to adjudge and distribute the prizes, the
+gold ring, or the _pallium_, as it was styled, of cloth or silk. A
+tribute on the Jews supplied the annual expense; and the races on foot,
+on horseback, or in chariots, were ennobled by a tilt and tournament of
+seventy-two of the Roman youth. In the year 1332 a bull-feast, after the
+fashion of the Moors and Spaniards, was celebrated in the Coliseum
+itself; and the living manners are painted in a diary of the times. A
+convenient order of benches was restored, and a general proclamation as
+far as Rimini and Ravenna invited the nobles to exercise their skill and
+courage in this perilous adventure. The Roman ladies were marshaled in
+three squadrons and seated in three balconies, which on this day, the
+third of September, were lined with scarlet cloth. The fair Jacova di
+Rovere led the matrons from beyond the Tiber, a pure and native race who
+still represent the features and character of antiquity. The remainder
+of the city was divided as usual between the Colonna and Ursini: the two
+factions were proud of the number and beauty of their female bands: the
+charms of Savella Ursini are mentioned with praise, and the Colonna
+regretted the absence of the youngest of their house, who had sprained
+her ankle in the garden of Nero's tower. The lots of the champions were
+drawn by an old and respectable citizen; and they descended into the
+arena, or pit, to encounter the wild bulls, on foot as it should seem,
+with a single spear. Amidst the crowd, our annalist has selected the
+names, colors, and devices of twenty of the most conspicuous knights.
+Several of the names are the most illustrious of Rome and the
+ecclesiastical State: Malatesta, Polenta, Della Valle, Cafarello,
+Savelli, Capoccio, Conti, Annibaldi, Altieri, Corsi: the colors were
+adapted to their taste and situation: the devices are expressive of
+hope or despair, and breathe the spirit of gallantry and arms. "I am
+alone, like the youngest of the Horatii," the confidence of an intrepid
+stranger; "I live disconsolate," a weeping widower; "I burn under the
+ashes," a discreet lover; "I adore Lavinia, or Lucretia," the ambiguous
+declaration of a modern passion; "My faith is as pure," the motto of a
+white livery; "Who is stronger than myself?" of a lion's hide; "If I am
+drowned in blood, what a pleasant death!" the wish of ferocious courage.
+The pride or prudence of the Ursini restrained them from the field,
+which was occupied by three of their hereditary rivals, whose
+inscriptions denoted the lofty greatness of the Colonna name: "Though
+sad, I am strong;" "Strong as I am great;" "If I fall," addressing
+himself to the spectators, "you fall with me"--intimating (says the
+contemporary writer) that while the other families were the subjects of
+the Vatican, they alone were the supporters of the Capitol. The combats
+of the amphitheatre were dangerous and bloody. Every champion
+successively encountered a wild bull; and the victory may be ascribed to
+the quadrupeds, since no more than eleven were left on the field, with
+the loss of nine wounded and eighteen killed on the side of their
+adversaries. Some of the noblest families might mourn; but the pomp of
+the funerals in the churches of St. John Lateran and Sta. Maria Maggiore
+afforded a second holiday to the people. Doubtless it was not in such
+conflicts that the blood of the Romans should have been shed: yet in
+blaming their rashness we are compelled to applaud their gallantry; and
+the noble volunteers who display their magnificence and risk their lives
+under the balconies of the fair, excite a more generous sympathy than
+the thousands of captives and malefactors who were reluctantly dragged
+to the scene of slaughter.
+
+This use of the amphitheatre was a rare, perhaps a singular, festival:
+the demand for the materials was a daily and continual want which the
+citizens could gratify without restraint or remorse. In the fourteenth
+century a scandalous act of concord secured to both factions the
+privilege of extracting stones from the free and common quarry of the
+Coliseum; and Poggius laments that the greater part of these stones had
+been burnt to lime by the folly of the Romans. To check this abuse, and
+to prevent the nocturnal crimes that might be perpetrated in the vast
+and gloomy recess, Eugenius the Fourth surrounded it with a wall; and by
+a charter long extant, granted both the ground and edifice to the monks
+of an adjacent convent. After his death the wall was overthrown in a
+tumult of the people; and had they themselves respected the noblest
+monument of their fathers, they might have justified the resolve that it
+should never be degraded to private property. The inside was damaged;
+but in the middle of the sixteenth century, an era of taste and
+learning, the exterior circumference of one thousand six hundred and
+twelve feet was still entire and inviolate; a triple elevation of
+fourscore arches which rose to the height of one hundred and eight feet.
+Of the present ruin, the nephews of Paul the Third are the guilty
+agents; and every traveler who views the Farnese palace may curse the
+sacrilege and luxury of these upstart princes. A similar reproach is
+applied to the Barberini; and the repetition of injury might be dreaded
+from every reign, till the Coliseum was placed under the safeguard of
+religion by the most liberal of the pontiffs, Benedict the Fourteenth,
+who consecrated a spot which persecution and fable had stained with the
+blood of so many Christian martyrs.
+
+When Petrarch first gratified his eyes with a view of those monuments,
+whose scattered fragments so far surpass the most eloquent descriptions,
+he was astonished at the supine indifference of the Romans themselves;
+he was humbled rather than elated by the discovery that, except his
+friend Rienzi and one of the Colonna, a stranger of the Rhone was more
+conversant with these antiquities than the nobles and natives of the
+metropolis. The ignorance and credulity of the Romans are elaborately
+displayed in the old survey of the city, which was composed about the
+beginning of the thirteenth century; and without dwelling on the
+manifold errors of name and place, the legend of the Capitol may provoke
+a smile of contempt and indignation. "The Capitol," says the anonymous
+writer, "is so named as being the head of the world, where the consuls
+and senators formerly resided for the government of the city and the
+globe. The strong and lofty walls were covered with glass and gold, and
+crowned with a roof of the richest and most curious carving. Below the
+citadel stood a palace, of gold for the greatest part, decorated with
+precious stones, and whose value might be esteemed at one-third of the
+world itself. The statues of all the provinces were arranged in order,
+each with a small bell suspended from its neck; and such was the
+contrivance of art magic, that if the province rebelled against Rome the
+statue turned round to that quarter of the heavens, the bell rang, the
+prophet of the Capitol reported the prodigy, and the Senate was
+admonished of the impending danger." A second example, of less
+importance though of equal absurdity, may be drawn from the two marble
+horses, led by two naked youths, which have since been transported from
+the baths of Constantine to the Quirinal Hill. The groundless
+application of the names of Phidias and Praxiteles may perhaps be
+excused: but these Grecian sculptors should not have been removed above
+four hundred years from the age of Pericles to that of Tiberius; they
+should not have been transformed into two philosophers or magicians,
+whose nakedness was the symbol of truth or knowledge, who revealed to
+the Emperor his most secret actions, and after refusing all pecuniary
+recompense, solicited the honor of leaving this eternal monument of
+themselves. Thus, awake to the power of magic, the Romans were
+insensible to the beauties of art: no more than five statues were
+visible to the eyes of Poggius; and of the multitudes which chance or
+design had buried under the ruins, the resurrection was fortunately
+delayed till a safer and more enlightened age. The Nile, which now
+adorns the Vatican, had been explored by some laborers in digging a
+vineyard near the temple, or convent, of the Minerva: but the impatient
+proprietor, who was tormented by some visits of curiosity, restored the
+unprofitable marble to its former grave. The discovery of the statue of
+Pompey, ten feet in length, was the occasion of a lawsuit. It had been
+found under a partition wall: the equitable judge had pronounced that
+the head should be separated from the body to satisfy the claims of the
+contiguous owners; and the sentence would have been executed if the
+intercession of a cardinal and the liberality of a pope had not rescued
+the Roman hero from the hands of his barbarous countrymen.
+
+But the clouds of barbarism were gradually dispelled, and the peaceful
+authority of Martin the Fifth and his successors restored the ornaments
+of the city as well as the order of the ecclesiastical State. The
+improvements of Rome since the fifteenth century have not been the
+spontaneous produce of freedom and industry. The first and most natural
+root of a great city is the labor and populousness of the adjacent
+country, which supplies the materials of subsistence, of manufactures,
+and of foreign trade. But the greater part of the Campagna of Rome is
+reduced to a dreary and desolate wilderness; the overgrown estates of
+the princes and the clergy are cultivated by the lazy hands of indigent
+and hopeless vassals; and the scanty harvests are confined or exported
+for the benefit of a monopoly. A second and more artificial cause of the
+growth of a metropolis is the residence of a monarch, the expense of a
+luxurious court, and the tributes of dependent provinces. Those
+provinces and tributes had been lost in the fall of the Empire: and if
+some streams of the silver of Peru and the gold of Brazil have been
+attracted by the Vatican, the revenues of the cardinals, the fees of
+office, the oblations of pilgrims and clients, and the remnant of
+ecclesiastical taxes, afford a poor and precarious supply, which
+maintains however the idleness of the court and city. The population of
+Rome, far below the measure of the great capitals of Europe, does not
+exceed one hundred and seventy thousand inhabitants; and within the
+spacious inclosure of the walls the largest portion of the seven hills
+is overspread with vineyards and ruins. The beauty and splendor of the
+modern city may be ascribed to the abuses of the government, to the
+influence of superstition. Each reign (the exceptions are rare) has been
+marked by the rapid elevation of a new family, enriched by the childless
+pontiff at the expense of the Church and country. The palaces of these
+fortunate nephews are the most costly monuments of elegance and
+servitude: the perfect arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture
+have been prostituted in their service; and their galleries and gardens
+are decorated with the most precious works of antiquity which taste or
+vanity has prompted them to collect. The ecclesiastical revenues were
+more decently employed by the popes themselves in the pomp of the
+Catholic worship; but it is superfluous to enumerate their pious
+foundations of altars, chapels, and churches, since these lesser stars
+are eclipsed by the sun of the Vatican, by the dome of St. Peter, the
+most glorious structure that ever has been applied to the use of
+religion. The fame of Julius the Second, Leo the Tenth, and Sixtus the
+Fifth is accompanied by the superior merit of Bramante and Fontana, of
+Raphael and Michael Angelo; and the same munificence which had been
+displayed in palaces and temples was directed with equal zeal to revive
+and emulate the labors of antiquity. Prostrate obelisks were raised from
+the ground and erected in the most conspicuous places; of the eleven
+aqueducts of the Caesars and consuls, three were restored; the artificial
+rivers were conducted over a long series of old, or of new arches, to
+discharge into marble basins a flood of salubrious and refreshing
+waters: and the spectator, impatient to ascend the steps of St. Peter's,
+is detained by a column of Egyptian granite, which rises between two
+lofty and perpetual fountains to the height of one hundred and twenty
+feet. The map, the description, the monuments of ancient Rome have been
+elucidated by the diligence of the antiquarian and the student; and the
+footsteps of heroes, the relics, not of superstition but of empire, are
+devoutly visited by a new race of pilgrims from the remote and once
+savage countries of the North.
+
+             All the foregoing selections are made from 'The History
+             of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT
+
+(1836-)
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM S. GILBERT]
+
+
+When, after appearing from time to time in the London Fun, the 'Bab
+Ballads' were published in book form in 1870, everybody, young and old,
+found them provocative of hearty laughter. "Much sound and little
+sense," was the title-page motto. Perhaps the fact that Mr. Gilbert's
+readers did not know why they laughed was one great charm of the
+ballads. The humor was felt, not analyzed, and involved no mental
+fatigue. If there was "little sense," no continuity of meaning, there
+was usually significant suggestion; and social foibles were touched off
+with good-natured irony in a delightfully inconsequent fashion. The
+"much sound" was a spirited lyric swing which clung to the memory,
+a rich rhythm, and a rollicking spontaneity, which disregarded
+considerations of grammar and pronunciation in a way that only added
+to the fun.
+
+The 'Bab Ballads,' and 'More Bab Ballads' which appeared in 1872, have
+become classic. In many of them may be found the germs of the librettos
+which have made Gilbert famous in comic opera. 'Pinafore,' 'The Mikado,'
+'Patience,' and many others of a long and well-known list written to Sir
+Arthur Sullivan's music, have furnished the public with many popular
+songs. A volume of dainty lyrics has been made up from them; and,
+entitled 'Songs of a Savoyard' (from the Savoy Theatre of London, where
+the operas were first represented), was published in 1890.
+
+Mr. Gilbert was born in London November 18th, 1836, and educated in that
+city; after his graduation from the University of London he studied law,
+and was called to the bar of the Inner Temple in 1863. Five years later
+he became a captain of the Royal Aberdeenshire Highlanders. The success
+of his first play, 'Dulcamara,' in 1866, led him to abandon the law, and
+he has since devoted himself to authorship.
+
+
+
+CAPTAIN REECE
+
+
+  Of all the ships upon the blue,
+  No ship contained a better crew
+  Than that of worthy Captain Reece,
+  Commanding of The Mantlepiece.
+
+  He was adored by all his men,
+  For worthy Captain Reece, R.N.,
+  Did all that lay within him to
+  Promote the comfort of his crew.
+
+  If ever they were dull or sad,
+  Their captain danced to them like mad,
+  Or told, to make the time pass by,
+  Droll legends of his infancy.
+
+  A feather-bed had every man,
+  Warm slippers and hot-water can,
+  Brown Windsor from the captain's store;
+  A valet, too, to every four.
+
+  Did they with thirst in summer burn,
+  Lo! seltzogenes at every turn;
+  And on all very sultry days
+  Cream ices handed round on trays.
+
+  Then, currant wine and ginger pops
+  Stood handily on all the "tops";
+  And also, with amusement rife,
+  A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."
+
+  New volumes came across the sea
+  From Mr. Mudie's libraree;
+  The Times and Saturday Review
+  Beguiled the leisure of the crew.
+
+  Kind-hearted Captain Reece, R.N.,
+  Was quite devoted to his men;
+  In point of fact, good Captain Reece
+  Beatified The Mantelpiece.
+
+  One summer eve, at half-past ten,
+  He said (addressing all his men):--
+  "Come, tell me, please, what I can do
+  To please and gratify my crew.
+
+  "By any reasonable plan
+  I'll make you happy if I can,--
+  My own convenience count as _nil:_
+  It is my duty, and I will."
+
+  Then up and answered William Lee
+  (The kindly captain's coxwain he,
+  A nervous, shy, low-spoken man);
+  He cleared his throat, and thus began:--
+
+  "You have a daughter, Captain Reece,
+  Ten female cousins and a niece,
+  A ma, if what I'm told is true,
+  Six sisters, and an aunt or two.
+
+  "Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,
+  More friendly-like we all should be,
+  If you united of 'em to
+  Unmarried members of the crew.
+
+  "If you'd ameliorate our life,
+  Let each select from them a wife;
+  And as for nervous me, old pal,
+  Give me your own enchanting gal!"
+
+  Good Captain Reece, that worthy man,
+  Debated on his coxwain's plan:--
+  "I quite agree," he said, "O Bill:
+  It is my duty, and I will.
+
+  "My daughter, that enchanting gurl,
+  Has just been promised to an Earl,
+  And all my other familee
+  To peers of various degree.
+
+  "But what are dukes and viscounts to
+  The happiness of all my crew?
+  The word I gave you I'll fulfill;
+  It is my duty, and I will.
+
+  "As you desire it shall befall;
+  I'll settle thousands on you all,
+  And I shall be, despite my hoard,
+  The only bachelor on board."
+
+  The boatswain of the Mantelpiece,
+  He blushed and spoke to Captain Reece:--
+  "I beg your Honor's leave," he said:--
+  "If you would wish to go and wed,
+
+  "I have a widowed mother who
+  Would be the very thing for you--
+  She long has loved you from afar:
+  She washes for you, Captain R."
+
+  The captain saw the dame that day--
+  Addressed her in his playful way:--
+  "And did it want a wedding ring?
+  It was a tempting ickle sing!
+
+  "Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,
+  We'll all be married this day week
+  At yonder church upon the hill;
+  It is my duty, and I will!"
+
+  The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,
+  And widowed ma of Captain Reece,
+  Attended there as they were bid:
+  It was their duty, and they did.
+
+
+
+THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL
+
+
+  'Twas on the shores that round our coast
+    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:--
+
+  "Oh, 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
+    However you can 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."
+
+  And he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
+    Is a trick all seamen larn,
+  And having got rid of a thumping quid,
+    He spun his 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 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 the 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.
+
+  "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 sich.
+
+  "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
+    And the cook he worshiped 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.
+
+  "Says 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 a 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 sit and croak, and a single joke
+    I have--which is to say:--
+
+  "'Oh, 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!'"
+
+
+
+THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO
+
+
+  From east and south the holy clan
+  Of bishops gathered to a man;
+  To Synod, called Pan-Anglican,
+    In flocking crowds they came.
+  Among them was a bishop who
+  Had lately been appointed to
+  The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo,
+    And Peter was his name.
+
+  His people--twenty-three in sum--
+  They played the eloquent tum-tum,
+  And lived on scalps served up in rum--
+    The only sauce they knew.
+  When first good Bishop Peter came
+  (For Peter was that bishop's name),
+  To humor them, he did the same
+    As they of Rum-ti-Foo.
+
+  His flock, I've often heard him tell,
+  (His name was Peter) loved him well,
+  And summoned by the sound of bell,
+    In crowds together came.
+  "Oh, massa, why you go away?
+  Oh, Massa Peter, please to stay."
+  (They called him Peter, people say,
+    Because it was his name.)
+
+  He told them all good boys to be,
+  And sailed away across the sea;
+  At London Bridge that bishop he
+    Arrived one Tuesday night;
+  And as that night he homeward strode
+  To his Pan-Anglican abode,
+  He passed along the Borough Road,
+    And saw a gruesome sight.
+
+  He saw a crowd assembled round
+  A person dancing on the ground,
+  Who straight began to leap and bound
+    With all his might and main.
+  To see that dancing man he stopped,
+  Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped,
+  Then down incontinently dropped,
+    And then sprang up again.
+
+  The bishop chuckled at the sight.
+  "This style of dancing would delight
+  A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite:
+    I'll learn it if I can,
+  To please the tribe when I get back."
+  He begged the man to teach his knack.
+  "Right reverend sir, in half a crack!"
+    Replied that dancing man.
+
+  The dancing man he worked away,
+  And taught the bishop every day;
+  The dancer skipped like any fay--
+    Good Peter did the same.
+  The bishop buckled to his task,
+  With _battements_ and _pas de basque_.
+  (I'll tell you, if you care to ask,
+    That Peter was his name.)
+
+  "Come, walk like this," the dancer said;
+  "Stick out your toes--stick in your head,
+  Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread--
+    Your fingers thus extend;
+  The attitude's considered quaint."
+  The weary bishop, feeling faint,
+  Replied, "I do not say it ain't,
+    But 'Time!' my Christian friend!"
+
+  "We now proceed to something new:
+  Dance as the Paynes and Lauris do,
+  Like this--one, two--one, two--one, two."
+    The bishop, never proud,
+  But in an overwhelming heat
+  (His name was Peter, I repeat)
+  Performed the Payne and Lauri feat,
+    And puffed his thanks aloud.
+
+  Another game the dancer planned:
+  "Just take your ankle in your hand,
+  And try, my lord, if you can stand--
+    Your body stiff and stark.
+  If when revisiting your see
+  You learnt to hop on shore, like me,
+  The novelty would striking be,
+    And must attract remark."
+
+  "No," said the worthy bishop, "no;
+  That is a length to which, I trow,
+  Colonial bishops cannot go.
+    You may express surprise
+  At finding bishops deal in pride--
+  But if that trick I ever tried,
+  I should appear undignified
+    In Rum-ti-Foozle's eyes.
+
+  "The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo
+  Are well-conducted persons, who
+  Approve a joke as much as you,
+    And laugh at it as such;
+  But if they saw their bishop land,
+  His leg supported in his hand,
+  The joke they wouldn't understand--
+    'Twould pain them very much!"
+
+
+
+GENTLE ALICE BROWN
+
+
+  It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown;
+  Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;
+  Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing:
+  But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.
+
+  As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one day,
+  A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way;
+  She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true,
+  That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!"
+
+  And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen;
+  She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten;
+  A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road
+  (The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode).
+
+  But Alice was a pious girl, who knew it wasn't wise
+  To look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes;
+  So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed,
+  The priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed.
+
+  "O holy father," Alice said, "'twould grieve you, would it not,
+  To discover that I was a most disreputable lot?
+  Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy one!"
+  The padre said, "Whatever have you been and gone and done?"
+
+  "I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad,
+  I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad,
+  I've planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque,
+  And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!"
+
+  The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear,
+  And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear:
+  It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece;
+  But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece.
+
+  "Girls will be girls--you're very young, and flighty in your mind;
+  Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find;
+  We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks--
+  Let's see--five crimes at half-a-crown--exactly twelve-and-six."
+
+  "O father," little Alice cried, "your kindness makes me weep,
+  You do these little things for me so singularly cheap;
+  Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget;
+  But oh! there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet!
+
+  "A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes,
+  I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a-catching flies;
+  He passes by it every day as certain as can be--
+  I blush to say I've winked at him and he has winked at me!"
+
+  "For shame!" said Father Paul, "my erring daughter! On my word,
+  This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard.
+  Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand
+  To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!
+
+  "This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so!
+  They are the most remunerative customers I know;
+  For many, many years they've kept starvation from my doors:
+  I never knew so criminal a family as yours!
+
+  "The common country folk in this insipid neighborhood
+  Have nothing to confess, they're so ridiculously good;
+  And if you marry any one respectable at all,
+  Why, you'll reform, and what will then become of Father Paul?"
+
+  The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown,
+  And started off in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown--
+  To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit,
+  Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it.
+
+  Good Robber Brown he muffled up his anger pretty well;
+  He said, "I have a notion, and that notion I will tell:
+  I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,
+  And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits.
+
+  "I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two:
+  Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do--
+  A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall
+  When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small."
+
+  He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square;
+  He watched his opportunity, and seized him unaware;
+  He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head,
+  And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went to bed.
+
+  And pretty little Alice grew more settled in her mind;
+  She never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind;
+  Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her pretty hand
+  On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band.
+
+
+
+THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS
+
+
+  I sing a legend of the sea,
+  So hard-a-port upon your lee!
+    A ship on starboard tack!
+  She's bound upon a private cruise--
+  (This is the kind of spice I use
+    To give a salt-sea smack).
+
+  Behold, on every afternoon
+  (Save in a gale or strong monsoon)
+    Great Captain Capel Cleggs
+  (Great morally, though rather short)
+  Sat at an open weather-port
+    And aired his shapely legs.
+
+  And mermaids hung around in flocks,
+  On cable chains and distant rocks,
+    To gaze upon those limbs;
+  For legs like those, of flesh and bone,
+  Are things "not generally known"
+    To any merman timbs.
+
+  But mermen didn't seem to care
+  Much time (as far as I'm aware)
+    With Cleggs's legs to spend;
+  Though mermaids swam around all day
+  And gazed, exclaiming, "_That's_ the way
+    A gentleman should end!
+
+  "A pair of legs with well-cut knees,
+  And calves and ankles such as these
+    Which we in rapture hail,
+  Are far more eloquent, it's clear
+  (When clothed in silk and kerseymere),
+    Than any nasty tail."
+
+  And Cleggs--a worthy, kind old boy--
+  Rejoiced to add to others' joy,
+    And when the day was dry,
+  Because it pleased the lookers-on,
+  He sat from morn till night--though con-
+    Stitutionally shy.
+
+  At first the mermen laughed, "Pooh! pooh!"
+  But finally they jealous grew,
+    And sounded loud recalls;
+  But vainly. So these fishy males
+  Declared they too would clothe their tails
+    In silken hose and smalls.
+
+  They set to work, these watermen,
+  And made their nether robes--but when
+    They drew with dainty touch
+  The kerseymere upon their tails,
+  They found it scraped against their scales,
+    And hurt them very much.
+
+  The silk, besides, with which they chose
+  To deck their tails by way of hose
+    (They never thought of shoon)
+  For such a use was much too thin,--
+  It tore against the caudal fin,
+    And "went in ladders" soon.
+
+  So they designed another plan:
+  They sent their most seductive man,
+    This note to him to show:--
+  "Our Monarch sends to Captain Cleggs
+  His humble compliments, and begs
+    He'll join him down below;
+
+  "We've pleasant homes below the sea--
+  Besides, if Captain Cleggs should be
+    (As our advices say)
+  A judge of mermaids, he will find
+  Our lady fish of every kind
+    Inspection will repay."
+
+  Good Capel sent a kind reply,
+  For Capel thought he could descry
+    An admirable plan
+  To study all their ways and laws--
+  (But not their lady fish, because
+    He was a married man).
+
+  The merman sank--the captain too
+  Jumped overboard, and dropped from view
+    Like stone from catapult;
+  And when he reached the merman's lair,
+  He certainly was welcomed there,
+    But ah! with what result!
+
+  They didn't let him learn their law,
+  Or make a note of what he saw,
+    Or interesting mem.;
+  The lady fish he couldn't find,
+  But that, of course, he didn't mind--
+    He didn't come for them.
+
+  For though when Captain Capel sank,
+  The mermen drawn in double rank
+    Gave him a hearty hail,
+  Yet when secure of Captain Cleggs,
+  They cut off both his lovely legs,
+    And gave him _such_ a tail!
+
+  When Captain Cleggs returned aboard,
+  His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd,
+    To see him altered so.
+  The admiralty did insist
+  That he upon the half-pay list
+    Immediately should go.
+
+  In vain declared the poor old salt,
+  "It's my misfortune--not my fault,"
+    With tear and trembling lip--
+  In vain poor Capel begged and begged.
+  "A man must be completely legged
+    Who rules a British ship."
+
+  So spake the stern First Lord aloud,--
+  He was a wag, though very proud,--
+    And much rejoiced to say,
+  "You're only half a captain now--
+  And so, my worthy friend, I vow
+    You'll only get half-pay!"
+
+         All the above selections are made from 'Fifty Bab Ballads.'
+
+
+
+
+RICHARD WATSON GILDER
+
+(1844-)
+
+[Illustration: RICHARD W. GILDER]
+
+
+Richard Watson Gilder is the son of a clergyman, the Rev. William H.
+Gilder, who published two literary reviews in Philadelphia. He was born
+in Bordentown, New Jersey, February 8th, 1844, and with such ancestry
+and home influence came easily to journalism and literary work. He got
+his schooling in the Bellevue Seminary, which was founded by his father.
+As with so many young Americans of the time, the war came to interrupt
+his studies; and in 1863 he served in the "Emergency Corps," in the
+defense of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Mr. Gilder is one of the American
+writers who have successfully combined journalism and literature. He
+began by doing newspaper work, and then by a natural transition became
+in 1869 editor of Hours at Home, and shortly thereafter associate editor
+of Scribner's Magazine with Dr. J. G. Holland. This representative
+monthly was changed in name to The Century, and upon the death of Dr.
+Holland in 1881 Mr. Gilder became its editor-in-chief. His influence in
+this conspicuous position has been wholesome and helpful in the
+encouraging of literature, and in the discussion of current questions of
+importance through a popular medium which reaches great numbers of the
+American people. The Century under his direction has been receptive to
+young writers and artists of ability, and many since known to fame made
+their maiden appearance in its pages.
+
+In addition to his influence on the literary movement, Mr. Gilder has
+been active in philanthropic and political work. He has secured
+legislation for the improvement of tenements in cities; he has taken
+interest in the formation of public kindergartens; and given of his time
+and strength to further other reforms. His influence in New York City,
+too, has been a factor in developing the social aspects of literary and
+art life there. From Dickinson College he has received the degree of
+LL.D., and from Princeton that of L.H.D.
+
+Mr. Gilder's reputation as a writer is based upon his verse. Only very
+occasionally does he publish an essay, though thoughtful, strongly
+written editorials from his pen in his magazine are frequent. But it is
+his verse-writing that has given him his place--a distinct and honorable
+one--in American letters. The fine quality and promise of his work was
+recognized upon the publication of 'The New Day' in 1875, a first volume
+which was warmly received. It showed the influence of Italian studies,
+and contained lyric work of much imaginative beauty. The musicalness of
+it and the delicately ideal treatment of the love passion were
+noticeable characteristics. In his subsequent books--'The Celestial
+Passion,' 1887; 'Lyrics,' 1885 and 1887; 'Two Worlds, and Other Poems,'
+1891; 'The Great Remembrance, and Other Poems,' 1893: the contents of
+these being gathered finally into the one volume 'Five Books of Song,'
+1894--he has given further proof of his genuine lyric gift, his work in
+later years having a wider range of themes, a broadening vision and
+deepening purpose. He remains nevertheless essentially a lyrist, a maker
+of songs; a thorough artist who has seriousness, dignity, and charm. His
+is an earnest nature, sensitive alike to vital contemporaneous problems
+and to the honey-sweet voice of the Ideal.
+
+
+
+    [All the following citations from Mr. Gilder's poems are
+    copyrighted, and are reprinted here by special permission
+    of the author and his publishers.]
+
+
+
+TWO SONGS FROM 'THE NEW DAY'
+
+
+I
+
+  Not from the whole wide world I chose thee,
+  Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea!
+  The wide, wide world could not inclose thee--
+  For thou art the whole wide world to me.
+
+
+II
+
+  Years have flown since I knew thee first,
+  And I know thee as water is known of thirst;
+  Yet I knew thee of old at the first sweet sight,
+  And thou art strange to me, Love, to-night.
+
+
+
+"ROSE-DARK THE SOLEMN SUNSET"
+
+
+  Rose-dark the solemn sunset
+    That holds my thought of thee;
+  With one star in the heavens
+    And one star in the sea.
+
+  On high no lamp is lighted,
+    Nor where the long waves flow.
+  Save the one star of evening
+    And the shadow star below.
+
+  Light of my life, the darkness
+    Comes with the twilight dream;
+  Thou art the bright star shining,
+    And I but the shadowy gleam.
+
+
+
+NON SINE DOLORE
+
+
+        What, then, is Life,--what Death?
+            Thus the Answerer saith;
+      O faithless mortal, bend thy head and listen:
+
+          Down o'er the vibrant strings,
+  That thrill, and moan, and mourn, and glisten,
+          The Master draws his bow.
+  A voiceless pause: then upward, see, it springs,
+  Free as a bird with unimprisoned wings!
+          In twain the chord was cloven,
+            While, shaken with woe,
+  With breaks of instant joy all interwoven,
+      Piercing the heart with lyric knife,
+          On, on the ceaseless music sings,
+            Restless, intense, serene;--
+  Life is the downward stroke; the upward, Life;
+            Death but the pause between.
+
+  Then spake the Questioner: If 't were only this,
+          Ah, who could face the abyss
+  That plunges steep athwart each human breath?
+          If the new birth of Death
+  Meant only more of Life as mortals know it,
+  What priestly balm, what song of highest poet,
+    Could heal one sentient soul's immitigable pain?
+              All, all were vain!
+  If, having soared pure spirit at the last,
+  Free from the impertinence and warp of flesh
+  We find half joy, half pain, on every blast;
+    Are caught again in closer-woven mesh--
+          Ah! who would care to die
+  From out these fields and hills, and this familiar sky;
+  These firm, sure hands that compass us, this dear humanity?
+
+            Again the Answerer saith:--
+            O ye of little faith,
+        Shall then the spirit prove craven,
+      And Death's divine deliverance but give
+            A summer rest and haven?
+    By all most noble in us, by the light that streams
+            Into our waking dreams,
+      Ah, we who know what Life is, let us live!
+        Clearer and freer, who shall doubt?
+    Something of dust and darkness cast forever out;
+      But Life, still Life, that leads to higher Life,
+  Even though the highest be not free from immortal strife.
+
+      The highest! Soul of man, oh be thou bold,
+      And to the brink of thought draw near, behold!
+                Where, on the earth's green sod,
+      Where, where in all the universe of God,
+                Hath strife forever ceased?
+      When hath not some great orb flashed into space
+    The terror of its doom? When hath no human face
+                Turned earthward in despair,
+    For that some horrid sin had stamped its image there?
+
+      If at our passing Life be Life increased,
+      And we ourselves flame pure unfettered soul,
+      Like the Eternal Power that made the whole
+                And lives in all he made
+  From shore of matter to the unknown spirit shore;
+              If, sire to son, and tree to limb,
+      Cycle on countless cycle more and more
+              We grow to be like him;
+      If he lives on, serene and unafraid,
+      Through all his light, his love, his living thought,
+      One with the sufferer, be it soul or star;
+      If he escape not pain, what beings that are
+  Can e'er escape while Life leads on and up the unseen way and far?
+      If he escape not, by whom all was wrought,
+              Then shall not we,
+      Whate'er of godlike solace still may be,--
+  For in all worlds there is no Life without a pang, and can be naught.
+
+      No Life without a pang! It were not Life,
+              If ended were the strife--
+      Man were not man, nor God were truly God!
+                    See from the sod
+      The lark thrill skyward in an arrow of song:
+                Even so from pain and wrong
+      Upsprings the exultant spirit, wild and free.
+      He knows not all the joy of liberty
+      Who never yet was crushed 'neath heavy woe.
+                  He doth not know,
+            Nor can, the bliss of being brave
+    Who never hath faced death, nor with unquailing eye
+                Hath measured his own grave.
+        Courage, and pity, and divinest scorn--
+    Self-scorn, self-pity, and high courage of the soul;
+                The passion for the goal;
+        The strength to never yield though all be lost--
+                    All these are born
+        Of endless strife; this is the eternal cost
+        Of every lovely thought that through the portal
+        Of human minds doth pass with following light.
+              Blanch not, O trembling mortal!
+        But with extreme and terrible delight
+                     Know thou the truth,
+        Nor let thy heart be heavy with false ruth.
+
+        No passing burden is our earthly sorrow,
+        That shall depart in some mysterious morrow.
+        'Tis His one universe where'er we are--
+        One changeless law from sun to viewless star.
+        Were sorrow evil here, evil it were forever,
+    Beyond the scope and help of our most keen endeavor
+                    God doth not dote,
+        His everlasting purpose shall not fail.
+        Here where our ears are weary with the wail
+  And weeping of the sufferers; there where the Pleiads float--
+        Here, there, forever, pain most dread and dire
+    Doth bring the intensest bliss, the dearest and most sure.
+        'Tis not from Life aside, it doth endure
+        Deep in the secret heart of all existence.
+              It is the inward fire,
+    The heavenly urge, and the divine insistence.
+    Uplift thine eyes, O Questioner, from the sod!
+              It were no longer Life,
+              If ended were the strife;
+    Man were not man, God were not truly God.
+
+
+
+"HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS"
+
+
+I
+
+          If songs were perfume, color, wild desire;
+                      If poets' words were fire
+          That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins;
+    If with a bird-like thrill the moments throbbed to hours;
+                      If summer's rains
+      Turned drop by drop to shy, sweet, maiden flowers;
+      If God made flowers with light and music in them,
+              And saddened hearts could win them;
+              If loosened petals touched the ground
+                      With a caressing sound;
+                      If love's eyes uttered word
+        No listening lover e'er before had heard;
+        If silent thoughts spake with a bugle's voice;
+    If flame passed into song and cried, "Rejoice! Rejoice!"
+    If words could picture life's, hope's, heaven's eclipse
+    When the last kiss has fallen on dying eyes and lips;
+                      If all of mortal woe
+      Struck on one heart with breathless blow on blow;
+      If melody were tears, and tears were starry gleams
+      That shone in evening's amethystine dreams;
+    Ah yes, if notes were stars, each star a different hue,
+                      Trembling to earth in dew;
+            Or if the boreal pulsings, rose and white,
+            Made a majestic music in the night;
+            If all the orbs lost in the light of day
+    In the deep, silent blue began their harps to play;
+    And when in frightening skies the lightnings flashed
+                      And storm-clouds crashed,
+  If every stroke of light and sound were but excess of beauty;
+            If human syllables could e'er refashion
+                    That fierce electric passion;
+    If other art could match (as were the poet's duty)
+        The grieving, and the rapture, and the thunder
+                    Of that keen hour of wonder,--
+    That light as if of heaven, that blackness as of hell,--
+    How Paderewski plays then might I dare to tell.
+
+
+II
+
+      How Paderewski plays! And was it he
+      Or some disbodied spirit which had rushed
+      From silence into singing; and had crushed
+      Into one startled hour a life's felicity,
+  And highest bliss of knowledge--that all life, grief, wrong,
+      Turn at the last to beauty and to song!
+
+
+
+THE SONNET
+
+
+  What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
+    That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
+    A precious jewel carved most curiously;
+  It is a little picture painted well.
+  What is a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell
+    From a great poet's hidden ecstasy;
+    A two-edged sword, a star, a song--ah me!
+  Sometimes a heavy-tolling funeral bell.
+    This was the flame that shook with Dante's breath;
+      The solemn organ whereon Milton played,
+  And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls:
+    A sea this is--beware who ventureth!
+      For like a fiord the narrow floor is laid
+  Mid-ocean deep to the sheer mountain walls.
+
+
+
+AMERICA
+
+From 'The Great Remembrance'
+
+
+  Land that we love! Thou Future of the World!
+    Thou refuge of the noble heart oppressed!
+  Oh, never be thy shining image hurled
+    From its high place in the adoring breast
+  Of him who worships thee with jealous love!
+  Keep thou thy starry forehead as the dove
+    All white, and to the eternal Dawn inclined!
+    Thou art not for thyself, but for mankind,
+  And to despair of thee were to despair
+    Of man, of man's high destiny, of God!
+    Of thee should man despair, the journey trod
+  Upward, through unknown eons, stair on stair,
+    By this our race, with bleeding feet and slow,
+    Were but the pathway to a darker woe
+  Than yet was visioned by the heavy heart
+    Of prophet. To despair of thee! Ah no!
+  For thou thyself art Hope; Hope of the World thou art!
+
+
+
+ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+
+  This bronze doth keep the very form and mold
+    Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:
+    That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
+  That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
+  Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;
+    That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea
+    For storms to beat on; the lone agony
+  Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.
+  Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men
+    As might some prophet of the elder day--
+    Brooding above the tempest and the fray
+  With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.
+  A power was his beyond the touch of art
+  Or armed strength--his pure and mighty heart.
+
+
+
+"CALL ME NOT DEAD"
+
+
+  Call me not dead when I, indeed, have gone
+    Into the company of the ever-living
+    High and most glorious poets! Let thanksgiving
+  Rather be made. Say:--"He at last hath won
+  Rest and release, converse supreme and wise,
+    Music and song and light of immortal faces;
+    To-day, perhaps, wandering in starry places,
+  He hath met Keats, and known him by his eyes.
+  To-morrow (who can say?) Shakespeare may pass,
+    And our lost friend just catch one syllable
+    Of that three-centuried wit that kept so well;
+  Or Milton; or Dante, looking on the grass
+    Thinking of Beatrice, and listening still
+    To chanted hymns that sound from the heavenly hill."
+
+
+
+AFTER-SONG
+
+From 'The New Day'
+
+
+  Through love to light! Oh, wonderful the way
+  That leads from darkness to the perfect day!
+  From darkness and from sorrow of the night
+  To morning that comes singing o'er the sea.
+  Through love to light! Through light, O God, to thee,
+  Who art the love of love, the eternal light of light!
+
+
+
+
+GIUSEPPE GIUSTI
+
+(1809-1850)
+
+[Illustration: GIUSEPPE GIUSTI]
+
+
+Giuseppe Giusti, an Italian satirical poet, was born of an influential
+family, May 12th, 1809, in the little village of Monsummano, which lies
+between Pistoja and Pescia, and was in every fibre of his nature a
+Tuscan. As a child he imbibed the healthful, sunny atmosphere of that
+Campagna, and grew up loving the world and his comrades, but with a
+dislike of study which convinced himself and his friends that he was
+born to no purpose. He was early destined to the bar, and began his law
+studies in Pistoja and Lucca, completing them a number of years later at
+Pisa, where he obtained his degree of doctor.
+
+In 1834 he went to Florence, under pretence of practicing with the
+advocate Capoquadri; but here as elsewhere he spent his time in the
+world of gayety, whose fascination and whose absurdity he seems to have
+felt with equal keenness. His dislike of study found its exception in
+his love of Dante, of whom he was a reverent student. He was himself
+continually versifying, and his early romantic lyrics are inspired by
+lofty thought. His penetrating humor, however, and his instinctive
+sarcasm, whose expression was never unkind, led him soon to abandon
+idealism and to distinguish himself in the field of satire, which has no
+purer representative than he. His compositions are short and terse, and
+are seldom blemished by personalities. He was wont to say that absurd
+persons did not merit even the fame of infamy. He leveled his wit
+against the lethargy and immoralities of the times, and revealed them
+clear-cut in the light of his own stern principles and patriotism.
+
+The admiration and confidence which he now began to receive from the
+public was to him a matter almost of consternation, wont as he was to
+consider himself a good-for-nothing. He confesses somewhat bashfully
+however that there was always within him, half afraid of itself, an
+instinct of power which led him to say in his heart, Who knows what I
+may be with time? His frail constitution and almost incessant physical
+suffering account for a natural indolence against which he constantly
+inveighs, but above which he was powerless to rise except at vehement
+intervals. No carelessness, however, marks his work. He was a tireless
+reviser, and possessed the rare power of cutting, polishing, and
+finishing his work with exquisite nicety, without robbing it of vigor.
+His writings exerted a distinct political and moral influence. His is
+not alone the voice of pitiless and mocking irony, but it is that of the
+humanitarian, who in overthrow and destruction sees only the first step
+toward the creation of something better. When war broke out he laid
+aside his pen, saying that this was no time for a poet to pull down, and
+that his was not the power to build up. His health forbade his entering
+the army, which was a cause of poignant sorrow to him. His faith in
+Italy and her people and in the final triumph of unity remained unshaken
+and sublime in the midst of every reverse.
+
+His mastery of the Tuscan dialect and his elegance of idiom won him
+membership in the Accademia della Crusca; but his love for Tuscany was
+always subservient to his love for Italy. To those who favored the
+division of the peninsula, he used to reply that he had but one
+fatherland, and that was a unit. He died in Florence, March 31, 1850, at
+the home of his devoted friend the Marquis Gino Capponi. In the teeth of
+Austrian prohibition, a throng of grateful and loving citizens followed
+his body to the church of San Miniato al Monte, remembering that at a
+time when freedom of thought was deemed treason, this man had fearlessly
+raised the battle-cry and prepared the way for the insurrection of 1848.
+Besides his satires, Giusti has left us a life of the poet Giuseppe
+Parini, a collection of Tuscan proverbs, and an unedited essay on the
+'Divine Comedy.'
+
+
+
+LULLABY
+
+From 'Gingillino'
+
+    [The poem of 'Gingillino,' one of Giusti's finest satires, is
+    full of personal hits, greatly enjoyed by the author's
+    countrymen. The 'Lullaby' is sung by a number of personified
+    Vices round the cradle of the infant Gingillino, who, having
+    come into the world naked and possessed of nothing, is
+    admonished how to behave if he would go out of it well dressed
+    and rich. A few verses only are given out of the many. The
+    whole poem was one of the most popular of all Giusti's
+    satires.]
+
+
+  Cry not, dear baby,
+    Of nothing possessed;
+  But if thou wouldst, dear,
+    Expire well dressed....
+
+  Let nothing vex thee,--
+    Love's silly story,
+  Ghosts of grand festivals
+    Spectres of glory;
+
+  Let naught annoy thee:
+    The burdens of fame,
+  The manifold perils
+    That wait on a name.
+
+  Content thyself, baby,
+    With learning to read:
+  Don't be vainglorious;
+    That's all thou canst need.
+
+  All promptings of genius
+    Confine in thy breast,
+  If thou wouldst, baby,
+    Expire well dressed....
+
+  Let not God nor Devil
+    Concern thy poor wits,
+  And tell no more truth
+    Than politeness permits.
+
+  With thy soul and thy body,
+    Still worship the Real;
+  Nor ever attempt
+    To pursue the Ideal.
+
+  As for thy scruples,
+    Let them be suppressed,
+  If thou wouldst, baby,
+    Expire well dressed.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'
+
+
+
+THE STEAM-GUILLOTINE
+
+    [The monarch satirized in this poem was Francesco IV., Duke of
+    Modena, a petty Nero, who executed not a few of the Italian
+    patriots of 1831.]
+
+
+  A most wonderful steam-machine,
+    One time set up in China-land,
+  Outdid the insatiate guillotine,
+    For in three hours, you understand,
+  It cut off a hundred thousand heads
+                In a row, like hospital beds.
+
+  This innovation stirred a breeze,
+    And some of the bonzes even thought
+  Their barbarous country by degrees
+    To civilization might be brought,
+  Leaving Europeans, with their schools,
+                Looking like fools.
+
+  The Emperor was an honest man--
+    A little stiff, and dull of pate;
+  Like other asses, hard and slow.
+    He loved his subjects and the State,
+  And patronized all clever men
+                Within his ken.
+
+  His people did not like to pay
+    Their taxes and their other dues,--
+  They cheated the revenue, sad to say:
+    So their good ruler thought he'd choose
+  As the best argument he'd seen,
+                This sweet machine.
+
+  The thing's achievements were so great,
+    They gained a pension for the man,--
+  The executioner of State,--
+    Who got a patent for his plan,
+  Besides becoming a Mandarin
+                Of great Pekin.
+
+  A courtier cried: "Good guillotine!
+    Let's up and christen it, I say!"
+  "Ah, why," cries to his counselor keen
+    A Nero of our present day,
+  "Why was not born within _my_ State
+                A man so great?"
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE.]
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE
+
+(1809-)
+
+
+In view of his distinguished career, it is interesting to know that it
+is a part of Mr. Gladstone's unresting ambition to take a place among
+the literary men of the time, and to guide the thoughts of his
+countrymen in literary as well as in political, social, and economic
+subjects. Mr. Gladstone's preparation to become a man of letters was
+extensive. Born in Liverpool December 29th, 1809, he was sent to Eton
+and afterwards to Oxford, where he took the highest honors, and was the
+most remarkable graduate of his generation. His fellow students carried
+away a vivid recollection of his _viva voce_ examination for his degree:
+the tall figure, the flashing eye, the mobile countenance, in the midst
+of the crowd who pressed to hear him, while the examiners plied him with
+questions till, tested in some difficult point in theology, the
+candidate exclaimed, "Not yet, if you please" and began to pour forth a
+fresh store of learning and argument.
+
+From the university Mr. Gladstone carried away two passions--the one for
+Greek literature, especially Greek poetry, the other for Christian
+theology. The Oxford that formed these tastes was intensely conservative
+in politics, representing the aristocratic system of English society and
+the exclusiveness of the Established Church, whose creed was that of the
+fourth century. Ecclesiasticism is not friendly to literature; but how
+far Oxford's most loyal son was permeated by ecclesiasticism is a matter
+of opinion. Fortunately, personality is stronger than dogma, and ideas
+than literary form; and Mr. Gladstone, than whom few men outside the
+profession of letters have written more, is always sure of an
+intelligent hearing. His discussion of a subject seems to invest it with
+some of his own marvelous vitality; and when he selects a book for
+review, he is said to make the fortune of both publisher and author, if
+only the title be used as a crotchet to hang his sermon on.
+
+And this not merely because curiosity is excited concerning the opinion
+of the greatest living Englishman (for notwithstanding his political
+vacillations, his views on inward and higher subjects have little
+changed since his Oxford days, and may easily be prognosticated), but on
+account of the subtlety and fertility of his mind and the adroitness of
+his argument. Plunging into the heart of the subject, he is at the same
+time working round it, holding it up for inspection in one light and
+then in another, reasoning from this premise and that; while the string
+of elucidations and explanations grows longer and longer, and the
+atmosphere of complexity thickens. It was out of such an atmosphere that
+a barrister advised his client, a bigamist, to get Mr. Gladstone to
+explain away one of his wives.
+
+When Mr. Gladstone made his debut as an author, he locked horns with
+Macaulay in the characteristic paper 'Church and State' (1837). He
+published his 'Studies in Homer and the Homeric Age' in 1858, 'Juventus
+Mundi' in 1869, 'Homeric Synchronism' in 1857. In 1879 most of his
+essays, political, social, economic, religious, and literary, written
+between 1843 and 1879, were collected in seven volumes, and appeared
+under the title of 'Gleanings of Past Years.' He has published a very
+great number of smaller writings not reprinted.
+
+From that time to the present, neither his industry nor his energy has
+abated; but he is probably at his best in the several remarkable essays
+on Blanco White, Bishop Patterson, Tennyson, Leopardi, and the position
+of the Church of England. The reader spoiled for the Scotch quality of
+weight by the "light touch" which is the graceful weapon of the age,
+wonders, when reading these essays, that Mr. Gladstone has not more
+assiduously cultivated the instinct of style,--sentence-making. Milton
+himself has not a higher conception of the business of literature; and
+when discussing these congenial themes, Mr. Gladstone's enthusiasm does
+not degenerate into vehemence, nor does he descend from the high moral
+plane from which he views the world.
+
+It is the province of the specialist to appraise Mr. Gladstone's Homeric
+writings; but even the specialist will not, perhaps, forbear to quote
+the axiom of the pugilist in the Iliad concerning the fate of him who
+would be skillful in all arts. No man is less a Greek in temperament,
+but no man cherishes deeper admiration for the Greek genius, and nowhere
+else is a more vivid picture of the life and politics of the heroic age
+held up to the unlearned. While the critic may question technical
+accuracy, or plausible structures built on insufficient data, the laity
+will remember how earnestly Mr. Gladstone insists that Homer is his own
+best interpreter, and that the student of the Iliad must go to the Greek
+text and not elsewhere for accurate knowledge.
+
+But Greek literature is only one of Mr. Gladstone's two passions, and
+not the paramount one. That he would have been a great theologian had he
+been other than Mr. Gladstone, is generally admitted. And it is
+interesting to note that while he glories in the combats of the heroes
+of Hellas, his enthusiasm is as quickly kindled by the humilities of
+the early Church. He recognizes the prophetic quality of Homer, but he
+bows before the sublimer genius of an Isaiah, and sees in the lives and
+writings of the early Fathers the perfect bloom of human genius and
+character.
+
+
+
+MACAULAY
+
+From 'Gleanings of Past Years'
+
+
+Lord Macaulay lived a life of no more than fifty-nine years and three
+months. But it was an extraordinarily full life, of sustained exertion;
+a high table-land, without depressions. If in its outer aspect there
+be anything wearisome, it is only the wearisomeness of reiterated
+splendors, and of success so uniform as to be almost monotonous. He
+speaks of himself as idle; but his idleness was more active, and carried
+with it hour by hour a greater expenditure of brain power, than what
+most men regard as their serious employments. He might well have been,
+in his mental career, the spoiled child of fortune; for all he tried
+succeeded, all he touched turned into gems and gold. In a happy
+childhood he evinced extreme precocity. His academical career gave
+sufficient, though not redundant, promise of after celebrity. The new
+Golden Age he imparted to the Edinburgh Review, and his first and most
+important, if not best, Parliamentary speeches in the grand crisis of
+the first Reform Bill, achieved for him, years before he had reached the
+middle point of life, what may justly be termed an immense distinction.
+
+For a century and more, perhaps no man in this country, with the
+exceptions of Mr. Pitt and of Lord Byron, had attained at thirty-two the
+fame of Macaulay. His Parliamentary success and his literary eminence
+were each of them enough, as they stood at this date, to intoxicate any
+brain and heart of a meaner order. But to these was added, in his case,
+an amount and quality of social attentions such as invariably partake of
+adulation and idolatry, and as perhaps the high circles of London never
+before or since have lavished on a man whose claims lay only in himself,
+and not in his descent, his rank, or his possessions....
+
+One of the very first things that must strike the observer of this man
+is, that he was very unlike to any other man. And yet this unlikeness,
+this monopoly of the model in which he was made, did not spring from
+violent or eccentric features of originality, for eccentricity he had
+none whatever, but from the peculiar mode in which the ingredients were
+put together to make up the composition. In one sense, beyond doubt,
+such powers as his famous memory, his rare power of illustration, his
+command of language, separated him broadly from others: but gifts like
+these do not make the man; and we now for the first time know that he
+possessed, in a far larger sense, the stamp of a real and strong
+individuality. The most splendid and complete assemblage of intellectual
+endowments does not of itself suffice to create an interest of the kind
+that is, and will be, now felt in Macaulay. It is from ethical gifts
+alone that such an interest can spring.
+
+These existed in him not only in abundance, but in forms distant from
+and even contrasted with the fashion of his intellectual faculties, and
+in conjunctions which come near to paradox. Behind the mask of splendor
+lay a singular simplicity; behind a literary severity which sometimes
+approached to vengeance, an extreme tenderness; behind a rigid
+repudiation of the sentimental, a sensibility at all times quick, and in
+the latest times almost threatening to sap, though never sapping, his
+manhood. He who as speaker and writer seemed above all others to
+represent the age and the world, had the real centre of his being in the
+simplest domestic tastes and joys. He for whom the mysteries of human
+life, thought, and destiny appear to have neither charm nor terror, and
+whose writings seem audibly to boast in every page of being bounded by
+the visible horizon of the practical and work-day sphere, yet in his
+virtues and in the combination of them; in his freshness, bounty,
+bravery; in his unshrinking devotion both to causes and to persons; and
+most of all, perhaps, in the thoroughly inborn and spontaneous character
+of all these gifts,--really recalls the age of chivalry and the
+lineaments of the ideal. The peculiarity, the _differentia_ (so to
+speak) of Macaulay seems to us to lie in this: that while as we frankly
+think, there is much to question--nay, much here and there to regret or
+even censure--in his writings, the excess, or defect, or whatever it may
+be, is never really ethical, but is in all cases due to something in the
+structure and habits of his intellect. And again, it is pretty plain
+that the faults of that intellect were immediately associated with its
+excellences: it was in some sense, to use the language of his own
+Milton, "dark with excessive bright."...
+
+His moderation in luxuries and pleasures is the more notable and
+praiseworthy because he was a man who, with extreme healthiness of
+faculty, enjoyed keenly what he enjoyed at all. Take in proof the
+following hearty notice of a dinner _a quattr' occhi_ to his friend:
+"Ellis came to dinner at seven. I gave him a lobster curry, woodcock,
+and macaroni. I think that I will note dinners, as honest Pepys did."
+
+His love of books was intense, and was curiously developed. In a walk he
+would devour a play or a volume. Once, indeed, his performance embraced
+no less than fourteen Books of the Odyssey. "His way of life," says Mr.
+Trevelyan, "would have been deemed solitary by others; but it was not
+solitary to him." This development blossomed into a peculiar specialism.
+Henderson's 'Iceland' was "a favorite breakfast-book" with him. "Some
+books which I would never dream of opening at dinner please me at
+breakfast, and _vice versa_!" There is more subtlety in this distinction
+than could easily be found in any passage of his writings. But how
+quietly both meals are handed over to the dominion of the master
+propensity! This devotion, however, was not without its drawbacks.
+Thought, apart from books and from composition, perhaps he disliked;
+certainly he eschewed. Crossing that evil-minded sea the Irish Channel
+at night in rough weather, he is disabled from reading; he wraps himself
+in a pea-jacket and sits upon the deck. What is his employment? He
+cannot sleep, or does not. What an opportunity for moving onward in the
+processes of thought, which ought to weigh on the historian! The wild
+yet soothing music of the waves would have helped him to watch the
+verging this way or that of the judicial scales, or to dive into the
+problems of human life and action which history continually is called
+upon to sound. No, he cared for none of this. He set about the marvelous
+feat of going over 'Paradise Lost' from memory, when he found he could
+still repeat half of it. In a word, he was always conversing, or
+recollecting, or reading, or composing; but reflecting never.
+
+The laboriousness of Macaulay as an author demands our gratitude; all
+the more because his natural speech was in sentences of set and ordered
+structure, well-nigh ready for the press. It is delightful to find that
+the most successful prose writer of the day was also the most
+painstaking. Here is indeed a literary conscience. The very same
+gratification may be expressed with reference to our most successful
+poet, Mr. Tennyson. Great is the praise due to the poet; still greater,
+from the nature of the case, that share which falls to the lot of
+Macaulay. For a poet's diligence is, all along, a honeyed work. He is
+ever traveling in flowery meads. Macaulay, on the other hand,
+unshrinkingly went through an immense mass of inquiry, which even he
+sometimes felt to be irksome, and which to most men would have been
+intolerable. He was perpetually picking the grain of corn out of the
+bushel of chaff. He freely chose to undergo the dust and heat and strain
+of battle, before he would challenge from the public the crown of
+victory. And in every way it was remarkable that he should maintain his
+lofty standard of conception and performance. Mediocrity is now, as
+formerly, dangerous, commonly fatal, to the poet; but among even the
+successful writers of prose, those who rise sensibly above it are the
+very rarest exceptions. The tests of excellence in prose are as much
+less palpable as the public appetite is less fastidious. Moreover, we
+are moving downward in this respect. The proportion of middling to good
+writing constantly and rapidly increases. With the average of
+performance, the standard of judgment progressively declines. The
+inexorable conscientiousness of Macaulay, his determination to put out
+nothing from his hand which his hand was still capable of improving, was
+a perfect godsend to the best hopes of our slipshod generation.
+
+It was naturally consequent upon this habit of treating composition in
+the spirit of art, that he should extend to the body of his books much
+of the regard and care which he so profusely bestowed upon their soul.
+We have accordingly had in him, at the time when the need was greatest,
+a most vigilant guardian of the language. We seem to detect rare and
+slight evidences of carelessness in his Journal: of which we can only
+say that in a production of the moment, written for himself alone, we
+are surprised that they are not more numerous and considerable. In
+general society, carelessness of usage is almost universal, and it is
+exceedingly difficult for an individual, however vigilant, to avoid
+catching some of the trashy or faulty usages which are continually in
+his ear. But in his published works his grammar, his orthography, nay,
+his punctuation (too often surrendered to the printer), are faultless.
+On these questions, and on the lawfulness or unlawfulness of a word, he
+may even be called an authority without appeal; and we cannot doubt that
+we owe it to his works, and to their boundless circulation, that we have
+not in this age witnessed a more rapid corruption and degeneration of
+the language.
+
+To the literary success of Macaulay it would be difficult to find a
+parallel in the history of recent authorship. For this and probably for
+all future centuries, we are to regard the public as the patron of
+literary men; and as a patron abler than any that went before to heap
+both fame and fortune on its favorites. Setting aside works of which the
+primary purpose was entertainment, Tennyson alone among the writers of
+our age, in point of public favor and of emolument following upon it,
+comes near to Macaulay. But Tennyson was laboriously cultivating his
+gifts for many years before he acquired a position in the eye of the
+nation. Macaulay, fresh from college in 1825, astonished the world by
+his brilliant and most imposing essay on Milton. Full-orbed, he was seen
+above the horizon; and full-orbed after thirty-five years of constantly
+emitted splendor, he sank beneath it.
+
+His gains from literature were extraordinary. The check for L20,000 is
+known to all. But his accumulation was reduced by his bounty; and his
+profits would, it is evident, have been far larger still had he dealt
+with the products of his mind on the principles of economic science
+(which however he heartily professed), and sold his wares in the dearest
+market, as he undoubtedly acquired them in the cheapest. No one can
+measure the elevation of Macaulay's character above the mercenary level,
+without bearing in mind that for ten years after 1825 he was a poor and
+a contented man, though ministering to the wants of a father and a
+family reduced in circumstances; though in the blaze of literary and
+political success; and though he must have been conscious from the first
+of the possession of a gift which by a less congenial and more
+compulsory use would have rapidly led him to opulence. Yet of the
+comforts and advantages, both social and physical, from which he thus
+forbore, it is so plain that he at all times formed no misanthropic or
+ascetic, but on the contrary a very liberal and genial estimate. It is
+truly touching to find that never, except as a minister, until 1851,
+when he had already lived fifty years of his fifty-nine, did this
+favorite of fortune, this idol of society, allow himself the luxury of a
+carriage.
+
+It has been observed that neither in art nor letters did Macaulay
+display that faculty of the higher criticism which depends upon certain
+refined perceptions and the power of subtle analysis. His analysis was
+always rough, hasty, and sweeping, and his perceptions robust. By these
+properties it was that he was so eminently [Greek: phortikos], not in
+the vulgar sense of an appeal to spurious sentiment, but as one bearing
+his reader along by violence, as the River Scamander tried to bear
+Achilles. Yet he was never pretentious; and he said frankly of himself
+that a criticism like that of Lessing in his 'Laocoon,' or of Goethe on
+'Hamlet,' filled him with wonder and despair. His intense devotion to
+the great work of Dante is not perhaps in keeping with the general tenor
+of his tastes and attachments, but is in itself a circumstance of much
+interest.
+
+We remember however at least one observation of Macaulay's in regard to
+art, which is worth preserving. He observed that the mixture of gold
+with ivory in great works of ancient art--for example, in the Jupiter of
+Phidias--was probably a condescension to the tastes of the people who
+were to be the worshipers of the statue; and he noticed that in
+Christian times it has most rarely happened that productions great in
+art have also been the objects of warm popular veneration....
+
+It has been felt and pointed out in many quarters that Macaulay as a
+writer was the child, and became the type, of his country and his age.
+As fifty years ago the inscription "Bath" used to be carried on our
+letter-paper, so the word "English" is, as it were, in the water-mark of
+every leaf of Macaulay's writing. His country was not the Empire, nor
+was it the United Kingdom. It was not even Great Britain. Though he was
+descended in the higher, that is the paternal, half from Scottish
+ancestry, and was linked specially with that country through the signal
+virtues, the victorious labors, and the considerable reputation of his
+father Zachary,--his country was England. On this little spot he
+concentrated a force of admiration and of worship which might have
+covered all the world. But as in space, so in time, it was limited. It
+was the England of his own age.
+
+The higher energies of his life were as completely summed up in the
+present as those of Walter Scott were projected upon the past. He would
+not have filled an Abbotsford with armor and relics of the Middle Ages.
+He judges the men and institutions and events of other times by the
+instruments and measures of the present. The characters whom he admires
+are those who would have conformed to the type that was before his eyes:
+who would have moved with effect in the court, the camp, the senate,
+the drawing-room of to-day. He contemplates the past with no
+_desiderium_, no regretful longing, no sense of things admirable which
+are also lost and irrecoverable. Upon this limitation of his retrospects
+it follows in natural sequence that of the future he has no glowing
+anticipations, and even the present he is not apt to contemplate on its
+mysterious and ideal side. As in respect to his personal capacity of
+loving, so in regard to the corresponding literary power. The faculty
+was singularly intense, and yet it was spent within a narrow circle.
+There is a marked sign of this narrowness, in his disinclination even to
+look at the works of contemporaries whose tone or manner he disliked.
+
+It appears that this dislike, and the ignorance consequent upon it,
+applied to the works of Carlyle. Now, we may have much or little faith
+in Carlyle as a philosopher or as a historian. Half-lights and
+half-truths may be the utmost which, in these departments, his works
+will be found to yield. But the total want of sympathy is the more
+noteworthy, because the resemblances, though partial, are both numerous
+and substantial between these two remarkable men and powerful writers,
+as well in their strength as in their weakness. Both are honest; and
+both, notwithstanding honesty, are partisans. Each is vastly, though
+diversely, powerful in expression; and each is more powerful in
+expression than in thought. Both are, though variously, poets using the
+vehicle of prose. Both have the power of portraitures, extraordinary for
+vividness and strength. For comprehensive disquisition, for balanced and
+impartial judgments, the world will probably resort to neither; and if
+Carlyle gains on the comparison in his strong sense of the inward and
+the ideal, he loses in the absolute and violent character of his
+one-sidedness. Without doubt, Carlyle's licentious though striking
+peculiarities of style have been of a nature allowably to repel, so far
+as they go, one who was so rigid as Macaulay in his literary orthodoxy,
+and who so highly appreciated, and with such expenditure of labor, all
+that relates to the exterior or body of a book. Still, if there be
+resemblances so strong, the want of appreciation, which has possibly
+been reciprocal, seems to be partly of that nature which Aristotle would
+have explained by his favorite proverb, [Greek: keramens keramei].[D]
+The discrepancy is like the discrepancy of colors that are too near.
+Carlyle is at least a great fact in the literature of his time, and has
+contributed largely,--in some respects too largely,--toward forming its
+characteristic habits of thought. But on these very grounds he should
+not have been excluded from the horizon of a mind like Macaulay's, with
+all its large and varied and most active interests....
+
+    [D] Potter [detests] potter.
+
+There have been other men of our own generation, though very few, who if
+they have not equaled have approached Macaulay in power of memory, and
+who have certainly exceeded him in the unfailing accuracy of their
+recollections; and yet not in accuracy as to dates or names or
+quotations, or other matters of hard fact, when the question was one
+simply between ay and no. In these he may have been without a rival. In
+a list of kings, or popes, or senior wranglers, or prime ministers, or
+battles, or palaces, or as to the houses in Pall Mall or about Leicester
+Square, he might be followed with implicit confidence. But a large and
+important class of human recollections are not of this order:
+recollections for example of characters, of feelings, of opinions; of
+the intrinsic nature, details, and bearings of occurrences. And here it
+was that Macaulay's wealth "was unto him an occasion of falling." And
+that in two ways. First, the possessor of such a vehicle as his memory
+could not but have something of an overweening confidence in what it
+told him; and quite apart from any tendency to be vain or overbearing,
+he could hardly enjoy the benefits of that caution which arises from
+self-interest, and the sad experience of frequent falls. But what is
+more, the possessor of so powerful a fancy could not but illuminate with
+the colors it supplied, the matters which he gathered into his great
+magazine, wherever the definiteness of their outline was not so rigid as
+to defy or disarm the action of the intruding and falsifying faculty.
+Imagination could not alter the date of the battle of Marathon, of the
+Council of Nice, or the crowning of Pepin; but it might seriously or
+even fundamentally disturb the balance of light and dark in his account
+of the opinions of Milton or of Laud, or his estimate of the effects of
+the Protectorate or the Restoration, or of the character and even the
+adulteries of William III. He could detect justly this want of dry light
+in others; he probably suspected it in himself; but it was hardly
+possible for him to be enough upon his guard against the distracting
+action of a faculty at once so vigorous, so crafty, and so pleasurable
+in its intense activity.
+
+Hence arose, it seems reasonable to believe, that charge of partisanship
+against Macaulay as a historian, on which much has been and probably
+much more will be said. He may not have possessed that scrupulously
+tender sense of obligation, that nice tact of exact justice, which is
+among the very rarest as well as the most precious of human virtues. But
+there never was a writer less capable of intentional unfairness. This
+during his lifetime was the belief of his friends, but was hardly
+admitted by opponents. His biographer has really lifted the question out
+of the range of controversy. He wrote for truth, but of course for truth
+such as he saw it; and his sight was colored from within. This color,
+once attached, was what in manufacture is called a mordant; it was a
+fast color: he could not distinguish between what his mind had received
+and what his mind had imparted. Hence, when he was wrong, he could not
+see that he was wrong; and of those calamities which are due to the
+intellect only, and not the heart, there can hardly be a greater....
+
+However true it may be that Macaulay was a far more consummate workman
+in the manner than in the matter of his works, we do not doubt that the
+works contain, in multitudes, passages of high emotion and ennobling
+sentiment, just awards of praise and blame, and solid expositions of
+principle, social, moral, and constitutional. They are pervaded by a
+generous love of liberty; and their atmosphere is pure and bracing,
+their general aim and basis morally sound. Of the qualifications of this
+eulogy we have spoken, and have yet to speak. But we can speak of the
+style of the works with little qualification. We do not indeed venture
+to assert that his style ought to be imitated. Yet this is not because
+it was vicious, but because it was individual and incommunicable. It was
+one of those gifts of which, when it had been conferred, Nature broke
+the mold. That it is the head of all literary styles we do not allege;
+but it is different from them all, and perhaps more different from them
+all than they are usually different from one another. We speak only of
+natural styles, of styles where the manner waits upon the matter, and
+not where an artificial structure has been reared either to hide or to
+make up for poverty of substance.
+
+It is paramount in the union of ease in movement with perspicuity of
+matter, of both with real splendor, and of all with immense rapidity and
+striking force. From any other pen, such masses of ornament would be
+tawdry; with him they are only rich. As a model of art concealing art,
+the finest cabinet pictures of Holland are almost his only rivals. Like
+Pascal, he makes the heaviest subject light; like Burke, he embellishes
+the barrenest. When he walks over arid plains, the springs of milk and
+honey, as in a march of Bacchus, seem to rise beneath his tread. The
+repast he serves is always sumptuous, but it seems to create an appetite
+proportioned to its abundance; for who has ever heard of the reader that
+was cloyed with Macaulay? In none, perhaps, of our prose writers are
+lessons such as he gives of truth and beauty, of virtue and of freedom,
+so vividly associated with delight. Could some magician but do for the
+career of life what he has done for the arm-chair and the study, what a
+change would pass on the face (at least) of the world we live in, what
+an accession of recruits would there be to the professing followers of
+virtue!...
+
+The truth is that Macaulay was not only accustomed, like many more of
+us, to go out hobby-riding, but from the portentous vigor of the animal
+he mounted was liable more than most of us to be run away with. His
+merit is that he could keep his seat in the wildest steeple-chase; but
+as the object in view is arbitrarily chosen, so it is reached by cutting
+up the fields, spoiling the crops, and spoiling or breaking down the
+fences needful to secure for labor its profit, and to man at large the
+full enjoyment of the fruits of the earth. Such is the overpowering glow
+of color, such the fascination of the grouping in the first sketches
+which he draws, that when he has grown hot upon his work he seems to
+lose all sense of the restraints of fact and the laws of moderation; he
+vents the strangest paradoxes, sets up the most violent caricatures, and
+handles the false weight and measure as effectively as if he did it
+knowingly. A man so able and so upright is never indeed wholly wrong. He
+never for a moment consciously pursues anything but truth. But truth
+depends, above all, on proportion and relation. The preterhuman
+vividness with which Macaulay sees his object, absolutely casts a shadow
+upon what lies around; he loses his perspective; and imagination,
+impelled headlong by the strong consciousness of honesty in purpose,
+achieves the work of fraud. All things for him stand in violent contrast
+to one another. For the shadows, the gradations, the middle and
+transition touches, which make up the bulk of human life, character,
+and action, he has neither eye nor taste. They are not taken account of
+in his practice, and they at length die away from the ranges of his
+vision.
+
+In Macaulay all history is scenic; and philosophy he scarcely seems to
+touch, except on the outer side, where it opens into action. Not only
+does he habitually present facts in forms of beauty, but the fashioning
+of the form predominates over, and is injurious to, the absolute and
+balanced presentation of the subject. Macaulay was a master in
+execution, rather than in what painting or music terms expression. He
+did not fetch from the depths, nor soar to the heights; but his power
+upon the surface was rare and marvelous, and it is upon the surface that
+an ordinary life is passed and that its imagery is found. He mingled,
+then, like Homer, the functions of the poet and the chronicler: but what
+Homer did was due to his time; what Macaulay did, to his temperament.
+
+The 'History' of Macaulay, whatever else it may be, is the work not of a
+journeyman but of a great artist, and a great artist who lavishly
+bestowed upon it all his powers. Such a work, once committed to the
+press, can hardly die. It is not because it has been translated into a
+crowd of languages, nor because it has been sold in hundreds of
+thousands, that we believe it will live; but because, however open it
+may be to criticism, it has in it the character of a true and very high
+work of art....
+
+Whether he will subsist as a standard and supreme authority is another
+question. Wherever and whenever read, he will be read with fascination,
+with delight, with wonder. And with copious instruction too; but also
+with copious reserve, with questioning scrutiny, with liberty to reject
+and with much exercise of that liberty. The contemporary mind may in
+rare cases be taken by storm; but posterity, never. The tribunal of the
+present is accessible to influence; that of the future is incorrupt. The
+coming generations will not give Macaulay up; but they will probably
+attach much less value than we have done to his _ipse dixit_. They will
+hardly accept from him his net solutions of literary, and still less of
+historic problems. Yet they will obtain, from his marked and telling
+points of view, great aid in solving them. We sometimes fancy that ere
+long there will be editions of his works in which his readers may be
+saved from pitfalls by brief, respectful, and judicious commentary; and
+that his great achievements may be at once commemorated and corrected by
+men of slower pace, of drier light, and of more tranquil, broad-set,
+and comprehensive judgment. For his works are in many respects among the
+prodigies of literature; in some, they have never been surpassed. As
+lights that have shone through the whole universe of letters, they have
+made their title to a place in the solid firmament of fame. But the tree
+is greater and better than its fruit; and greater and better yet than
+the works themselves are the lofty aims and conceptions, the large
+heart, the independent, manful mind, the pure and noble career, which in
+this Biography have disclosed to us the true figure of the man who wrote
+them.
+
+
+
+
+EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN
+
+(1831-)
+
+[Illustration: EDWIN L. GODKIN]
+
+
+Among the men in the United States who through the agency of the press
+have molded intelligent public opinion, Edwin Lawrence Godkin deserves
+an honorable place. In the columns of the New York Nation and the New
+York Evening Post, he has for a generation given editorial utterance to
+his views upon economic, civic, political, and international questions,
+this work being supplemented by occasional incisive and scholarly
+articles in the best periodicals. His clientele has been drawn mainly
+from that powerful minority which is made up of the educated, thoughtful
+men and women of the country. To this high function Mr. Godkin has
+contributed exceptional gifts and qualifications; and that in its
+exercise he has been a force for good, is beyond dispute.
+
+Born in Moyne, Ireland, in 1831, he was educated at Queen's College,
+Belfast. Then came the more practical education derived from a
+familiarity with men and things, for in early manhood he began newspaper
+work as war correspondent, in Turkey and the Crimea, of the London Daily
+News. As correspondent of this paper he came to the United States and
+settled here, being admitted to the New York bar in 1858. But journalism
+was to be his life work; and in 1865 he became the editor of The Nation,
+a weekly,--succeeding the Round Table, but at once taking a much more
+important place as a journal of political and literary discussion,--and
+the next year its proprietor. In 1881 he also became one of the owners
+and the controlling editor of the New York Evening Post, a daily, and
+his contributions since then have appeared in both papers, which bear to
+each other the relation of a daily and weekly edition. Thus he has been
+in active journalistic service for more than thirty years.
+
+From this slight biographical outline it may be seen that Mr. Godkin
+brought to the pursuit of his profession and to the study of American
+institutions some valuable qualifications. A college-bred man of wide
+experience, an adoptive American able to judge by the comparative
+method, a careful student of the philosophy of government, from
+Aristotle to Sir Henry Maine, his views combine in an unusual degree the
+practical and the theoretical. No doubt he has in his writings what to
+some will seem the defect of his quality. There is in him a certain
+haughtiness of temper, and what seems like impatient contempt for the
+opponent in argument, which, conjoined with a notable power of invective
+and satire in dealing with what he deems to be fallacious, are likely to
+arouse opposition. Hence the feeling in some quarters that Mr. Godkin is
+not at heart an American, but a captious critic, with sympathies ill
+suited to a democratic government.
+
+This opinion is not justified by a fair examination of his writings. He
+has on the contrary and in the true sense proved himself a true
+American. He has spoken wise words upon many of the social and political
+problems of our day. He has defended democracy from the charge of
+failure, pointing out that here in the United States social defects,
+wrongly ascribed by foreign critics to the form of government, have been
+incidental to the settling of a vast new country. He has stated with
+clearness and cogency the inadvisability of allowing the government
+paternal power in finance and tariff legislation. He has preached the
+difference between cheap jingoism or political partisanship, and the
+enlightened Americanism which puts its finger upon weak points,
+criticizing in order to correct and purify. Mr. Godkin, in this, has
+been a consistent worker in a cause of which Lowell was a noble prophet.
+And in regard of literary excellence, his editorial writing is often a
+model of lucid, sinewy English style; while his more deliberated essays
+have been admirable for calm dignity, polish, and organic exposition,
+with an air of good breeding over it all. The influence of such a man,
+both as writer and thinker, especially in a land like the United States,
+has been most salutary.
+
+
+
+THE DUTY OF CRITICISM IN A DEMOCRACY
+
+From 'Problems of Modern Democracy.' Copyright 1896, by Charles
+Scribner's Sons, New York
+
+
+No intelligent man can or ought to ignore the part which hope of better
+things plays in our present social system. It has largely, among the
+working classes, taken the place of religious belief. They have brought
+their heaven down to earth, and are literally looking forward to a sort
+of New Jerusalem, in which all comforts and many of the luxuries of life
+will be within easy reach of all. The great success of Utopian works
+like Bellamy's shows the hold which these ideas have taken of the
+popular mind. The world has to have a religion of some kind, and the
+hope of better food and clothing, more leisure, and a greater variety of
+amusements, has become the religion of the working classes. Hope makes
+them peaceful, industrious, and resigned under present suffering. A
+Frenchman saw a ragged pauper spend his last few cents on a lottery
+ticket, and asked him how he could commit such a folly. "In order to
+have something to hope for," he said. And from this point of view the
+outlay was undoubtedly excusable. It is literally hope which makes the
+world go round, and one of the hardest things an educated man who opens
+his mouth about public affairs has to do, is to say one word or anything
+to dampen or destroy it. Yet his highest duty is to speak the truth.
+
+Luckily, there is one truth which can always be spoken without offense,
+and that is that on the whole the race advances through the increase of
+intelligence and the improvement of character, and has not advanced in
+any other way. The great amelioration in the condition of the working
+classes in Europe within this century, including the increasing power of
+the trades-unions, is the result not of any increase of benevolence in
+the upper classes, but of the growth of knowledge and self-reliance and
+foresight among the working classes themselves. The changes in
+legislation which have improved their condition are changes which they
+have demanded. When a workingman becomes a capitalist, and raises
+himself in any way above his early condition, it is rarely the result of
+miracle or accident. It is due to his superior intelligence and thrift.
+Nothing, on the whole, can be more delusive than official and other
+inquiries into the labor problem through commissions and legislative
+committees. They all assume that there is some secret in the relations
+of labor and capital which can be found out by taking testimony. But
+they never find anything out. Their reports during the last fifty years
+would make a small library, but they never tell us anything new. They
+are meant to pacify and amuse the laborer, and they do so; but to their
+constant failure to do anything more we owe some of the Socialist
+movement. The Socialists believe this failure due to want of will, and
+that Karl Marx has discovered the great truth of the situation, which
+is, that labor is entitled to the whole product. The great law which
+Nature seems to have prescribed for the government of the world, and the
+only law of human society which we are able to extract from history, is
+that the more intelligent and thoughtful of the race shall inherit the
+earth and have the best time, and that all others shall find life on the
+whole dull and unprofitable. Socialism is an attempt to contravene this
+law and insure a good time to everybody, independently of character and
+talents; but Nature will see that she is not frustrated or brought to
+naught, and I do not think educated men should ever cease to call
+attention to this fact; that is, ever cease to preach hopefulness, not
+to everybody, but to good people. This is no bar to benevolence to bad
+people or any people; but our first duty is loyalty to the great
+qualities of our kind, to the great human virtues which raise the
+civilized man above the savage.
+
+There is probably no government in the world to-day as stable as that of
+the United States. The chief advantage of democratic government is, in a
+country like this, the enormous force it can command on an emergency. By
+"emergency" I mean the suppression of an insurrection or the conduct of
+a foreign war. But it is not equally strong in the ordinary work of
+administration. A good many governments, by far inferior to it in
+strength, fill the offices, collect the taxes, administer justice, and
+do the work of legislation with much greater efficiency. One cause of
+this inefficiency is that the popular standard in such matters is low,
+and that it resents dissatisfaction as an assumption of superiority.
+When a man says these and those things ought not to be, his neighbors,
+who find no fault with them, naturally accuse him of giving himself
+airs. It seems as if he thought he knew more than they did, and was
+trying to impose his plans on them. The consequence is that in a land of
+pure equality, as this is, critics are always an unpopular class, and
+criticism is in some sense an odious work. The only condemnation passed
+on the governmental acts or systems is apt to come from the opposite
+party in the form of what is called "arraignment," which generally
+consists in wholesale abuse of the party in power, treating all their
+acts, small or great, as due to folly or depravity, and all their public
+men as either fools or knaves. Of course this makes but small impression
+on the public mind. It is taken to indicate not so much a desire to
+improve the public service as to get hold of the offices, and has as a
+general rule but little effect. Parties lose their hold on power through
+some conspicuously obnoxious acts or failures; never, or very rarely,
+through the judgments passed on them by hostile writers or orators. And
+yet nothing is more necessary to successful government than abundant
+criticism from sources not open to the suspicion of particular interest.
+There is nothing which bad governments so much dislike and resent as
+criticism, and have in past ages taken so much pains to put down. In
+fact, a history of the civil liberty would consist largely of an account
+of the resistance to criticism on the part of rulers. One of the first
+acts of a successful tyranny or despotism is always the silencing of the
+press or the establishment of a censorship.
+
+Popular objection to criticism is however senseless, because it is
+through criticism--that is, through discrimination between two things,
+customs, or courses--that the race has managed to come out of the woods
+and lead a civilized life. The first man who objected to the general
+nakedness, and advised his fellows to put on clothes, was the first
+critic. Criticism of a high tariff recommends a low tariff; criticism of
+monarchy recommends a republic; criticism of vice recommends virtue. In
+fact, almost every act of life, in the practice of a profession or the
+conduct of a business, condemns one course and suggests another. The
+word means _judging_, and judgment is the highest of the human
+faculties, the one which most distinguishes us from the animals.
+
+There is probably nothing from which the public service of the country
+suffers more to-day than the silence of its educated class; that is, the
+small amount of criticism which comes from the disinterested and
+competent sources. It is a very rare thing for an educated man to say
+anything publicly about the questions of the day. He is absorbed in
+science, or art, or literature, in the practice of his profession, or in
+the conduct of his business; and if he has any interest at all in public
+affairs, it is a languid one. He is silent because he does not much
+care, or because he does not wish to embarrass the administration or
+"hurt the party," or because he does not feel that anything he could say
+would make much difference. So that on the whole, it is very rarely that
+the instructed opinion of the country is ever heard on any subject. The
+report of the Bar Association on the nomination of Maynard in New York
+was a remarkable exception to this rule. Some improvement in this
+direction has been made by the appearance of the set of people known as
+the "Mugwumps," who are, in the main, men of cultivation. They have been
+defined in various ways. They are known to the masses mainly as
+"kickers"; that is, dissatisfied, querulous people, who complain of
+everybody and cannot submit to party discipline. But they are the only
+critics who do not criticize in the interest of party, but simply in
+that of good government. They are a kind of personage whom the bulk of
+the voters know nothing about and find it difficult to understand, and
+consequently load with ridicule and abuse. But their movement, though
+its visible recognizable effects on elections may be small, has done
+inestimable service in slackening the bonds of party discipline, in
+making the expression of open dissent from party programmes respectable
+and common, and in increasing the unreliable vote in large States like
+New York. It is of the last importance that this unreliable vote--that
+is, the vote which party leaders cannot count on with certainty--should
+be large in such States. The mere fear of it prevents a great many
+excesses.
+
+But in criticism one always has hard work in steering a straight course
+between optimism and pessimism. These are the Scylla and Charybdis of
+the critic's career. Almost every man who thinks or speaks about public
+affairs is either an optimist or a pessimist; which he is, depends a
+good deal on temperament, but often on character. The political jobber
+or corruptionist is almost always an optimist. So is the prosperous
+business man. So is nearly every politician, because the optimist is
+nearly always the more popular of the two. As a general rule, people
+like cheerful men and the promise of good times. The kill-joy and bearer
+of bad news has always been an odious character. But for the cultivated
+man there is no virtue in either optimism or pessimism. Some people
+think it a duty to be optimistic, and for some people it may be a duty;
+but one of the great uses of education is to teach us to be neither one
+nor the other. In the management of our personal affairs, we try to be
+neither one nor the other. In business, a persistent and uproarious
+optimist would certainly have poor credit. And why? Because in business
+the trustworthy man, as everybody knows, is the man who sees things as
+they are: and to see things as they are, without glamor or illusion, is
+the first condition of worldly success. It is absolutely essential in
+war, in finance, in law, in every field of human activity in which the
+future has to be thought of and provided for. It is just as essential in
+politics. The only reason why it is not thought as essential in politics
+is, the punishment for failure or neglect comes in politics more
+slowly.
+
+The pessimist has generally a bad name, but there is a good deal to be
+said for him. To take a recent illustration, the man who took
+pessimistic views of the silver movement was for nearly twenty years
+under a cloud. This gloomy anticipation of 1873 was not realized until
+1893. For a thousand years after Marcus Aurelius, the pessimist, if I
+may use the expression, was "cock of the walk." He certainly has no
+reason to be ashamed of his role in the Eastern world for a thousand
+years after the Mohammedan Hegira. In Italy and Spain he has not needed
+to hang his head since the Renaissance. In fact, if we take various
+nations and long reaches of time, we shall find that the gloomy man has
+been nearly as often justified by the course of events as the cheerful
+one. Neither of them has any special claim to a hearing on public
+affairs. A persistent optimist, although he may be a most agreeable man
+in family life, is likely, in business or politics, to be just as
+foolish and unbearable as a persistent pessimist. He is as much out of
+harmony with the order of nature. The universe is not governed on
+optimistic any more than on pessimistic principles. The best and wisest
+of men make their mistakes and have their share of sorrow and sickness
+and losses. So also the most happily situated nations must suffer from
+internal discord, the blunders of statesmen, and the madness of the
+people. What Cato said in the Senate of the conditions of success,
+"vigilando, agendo, bene consulendo, prospere omnia cedunt," is as true
+to-day as it was two thousand years ago. We must remember that though
+the optimist may be the pleasantest man to have about us, he is the
+least likely to take precautions; that is, the least likely to watch and
+work for success. We owe a great deal of our slovenly legislation to his
+presence in large numbers in Congress and the legislatures. The great
+suffering through which we are now passing, in consequence of the
+persistence in our silver purchases, is the direct result of unreasoning
+optimism. Its promoters disregarded the warnings of economists and
+financiers because they believed that somehow, they did not know how,
+the thing would come out right in the end. The silver collapse, together
+with the Civil War over slavery, are striking illustrations to occur in
+one century, of the fact that if things come out right in the end, it is
+often after periods of great suffering and disaster. Could people have
+foreseen how the slavery controversy would end, what frantic efforts
+would have been made for peaceful abolition! Could people have foreseen
+the panic of last year, with its wide-spread disaster, what haste would
+have been made to stop the silver purchases! And yet the experience of
+mankind afforded abundant reason for anticipating both results.
+
+This leads me to say that the reason why educated men should try and
+keep a fair mental balance between both pessimism and optimism, is that
+there has come over the world in the last twenty-five or thirty years a
+very great change of opinion touching the relations of the government to
+the community. When Europe settled down to peaceful work after the great
+wars of the French Revolution, it was possessed with the idea that the
+freedom of the individual was all that was needed for public prosperity
+and private happiness. The old government interference with people's
+movements and doings was supposed to be the reason why nations had not
+been happy in the past. This became the creed, in this country, of the
+Democratic party, which came into existence after the foundation of the
+federal government. At the same time there grew up here the popular idea
+of the American character, in which individualism was the most marked
+trait. If you are not familiar with it in your own time, you may
+remember it in the literature of the earlier half of the century. The
+typical American was always the architect of his own fortunes. He sailed
+the seas and penetrated the forest, and built cities and lynched the
+horse thieves, and fought the Indians and dug the mines, without
+anybody's help or support. He had even an ill-concealed contempt for
+regular troops, as men under control and discipline. He scorned
+government for any other purposes than security and the administration
+of justice. This was the kind of American that Tocqueville found here in
+1833. He says:--
+
+     "The European often sees in the public functionaries simply
+     force; the American sees nothing but law. One may then say
+     that in America a man never obeys a man, or anything but
+     justice and law. Consequently he has formed of himself an
+     opinion which is often exaggerated, but is always salutary.
+     He trusts without fear to his own strength, which appears to
+     him equal to anything. A private individual conceives some
+     sort of enterprise. Even if this enterprise have some sort of
+     connection with the public welfare, it never occurs to him to
+     address himself to the government in order to obtain its aid.
+     He makes his plan known, offers to carry it out, calls other
+     individuals to his aid, and struggles with all his might
+     against any obstacles there may be in his way. Often,
+     without doubt, he succeeds less well than the State would in
+     his place; but in the long run the general result of
+     individual enterprises far surpasses anything the government
+     could do."
+
+Now there is no doubt that if this type of character has not passed
+away, it has been greatly modified; and it has been modified by two
+agencies--the "labor problem," as it is called, and legislative
+protection to native industry. I am not going to make an argument about
+the value of this protection in promoting native industry, or about its
+value from the industrial point of view. We may or we may not owe to it
+the individual progress and prosperity of the United States. About that
+I do not propose to say anything. What I want to say is that the
+doctrine that it is a function of government, not simply to foster
+industry in general, but to consider the case of every particular
+industry and give it the protection that it needs, could not be preached
+and practiced for thirty years in a community like this, without
+modifying the old American conception of the relation of the government
+to the individual. It makes the government, in a certain sense, a
+partner in every industrial enterprise, and makes every Presidential
+election an affair of the pocket to every miner and manufacturer and to
+his men; for the men have for fully thirty years been told that the
+amount of their wages would depend, to a certain extent at least, on the
+way the election went. The notion that the government owes assistance to
+individuals in carrying on business and making a livelihood has in fact,
+largely through the tariff discussions, permeated a very large class of
+the community, and has materially changed what I may call the American
+outlook. It has greatly reinforced among the foreign-born population the
+socialistic ideas which many bring here with them, of the powers and
+duties of the State toward labor; for it is preached vehemently by the
+employing class.
+
+What makes this look the more serious is, that our political and social
+manners are not adapted to it. In Europe, the State is possessed of an
+administrative machine which has a finish, efficacy, and permanence
+unknown here. Tocqueville comments on its absence among us; and it is,
+as all the advocates of civil-service reform know, very difficult to
+supply. All the agencies of the government suffer from the imposition on
+them of what I may call non-American duties. For instance, a
+custom-house organized as a political machine was never intended to
+collect the enormous sum of duties which must pass through its hands
+under our tariff. A post-office whose master has to be changed every
+four years to "placate" Tammany, or the anti-Snappers, or any other body
+of politicians, was never intended to handle the huge mass which
+American mails have now become. One of the greatest objections to the
+income tax is the prying into people's affairs which it involves. No man
+likes to tell what his income is to every stranger, much less to a
+politician, which our collectors are sure to be. Secrecy on the part of
+the collector is in fact essential to reconcile people to it in England
+or Germany, where it is firmly established; but our collectors sell
+their lists to the newspapers in order to make the contributors pay up.
+
+In all these things, we are trying to meet the burdens and
+responsibilities of much older societies with the machinery of a much
+earlier and simpler state of things. It is high time to halt in this
+progress until our administrative system has been brought up to the
+level even of our present requirements. It is quite true that, with our
+system of State and federal constitutions laying prohibitions on the
+Legislature and Congress, any great extension of the sphere of
+government in our time seems very unlikely. Yet the assumption by
+Congress, with the support of the Supreme Court, of the power to issue
+paper money in time of peace, the power to make prolonged purchases of a
+commodity like silver, the power to impose an income tax, to execute
+great public works, and to protect native industry, are powers large
+enough to effect a great change in the constitution of society and in
+the distribution of wealth, such as, it is safe to say, in the present
+state of human culture, no government ought to have and exercise.
+
+One hears every day from educated people some addition to the number of
+things which "governments" ought to do, but for which any government we
+have at present is totally unfit. One listens to them with amazement,
+when looking at the material of which our government is composed,--for
+the matter of that, of which all governments are composed; for I suppose
+there is no question that all legislative bodies in the world have in
+twenty years run down in quality. The parliamentary system is apparently
+failing to meet the demands of modern democratic society, and is falling
+into some disrepute; but it would seem as if there was at present just
+as little chance of a substitute of any kind as of the dethronement of
+universal suffrage. It will probably last indefinitely, and be as good
+or as bad as its constituents make it. But this probable extension of
+the powers and functions of government makes more necessary than ever a
+free expression of opinion, and especially of educated opinion. We may
+rail at "mere talk" as much as we please, but the probability is that
+the affairs of nations and of men will be more and more regulated by
+talk. The amount of talk which is now expended on all subjects of human
+interest--and in "talk" I include contributions to periodical
+literature--is something of which no previous age has had the smallest
+conception. Of course it varies infinitely in quality. A very large
+proportion of it does no good beyond relieving the feelings of the
+talker. Political philosophers maintain, and with good reason, that one
+of its greatest uses is keeping down discontent under popular
+government. It is undoubtedly true that it is an immense relief to a man
+with a grievance to express his feelings about it in words, even if he
+knows that his words will have no immediate effect. Self-love is apt to
+prevent most men from thinking that anything they say with passion or
+earnestness will utterly and finally fail. But still it is safe to
+suppose that one half of the talk of the world on subjects of general
+interest is waste. But the other half certainly tells. We know this from
+the change in ideas from generation to generation. We see that opinions
+which at one time everybody held became absurd in the course of half a
+century--opinions about religion and morals and manners and government.
+Nearly every man of my age can recall old opinions of his own on
+subjects of general interest, which he once thought highly respectable,
+and which he is now almost ashamed of having ever held. He does not
+remember when he changed them, or why, but somehow they have passed away
+from him.
+
+In communities these changes are often very striking. The
+transformation, for instance, of the England of Cromwell into the
+England of Queen Anne, or of the New England of Cotton Mather into the
+New England of Theodore Parker and Emerson, was very extraordinary, but
+it would be very difficult to say in detail what brought it about or
+when it began. Lecky has some curious observations in his "History of
+Rationalism" on these silent changes in new beliefs, apropos of the
+disappearance of the belief in witchcraft. Nobody could say what had
+swept it away; but it appeared that in a certain year people were ready
+to burn old women as witches, and a few years later were ready to laugh
+at or pity any one who thought old women could be witches. "At one
+period," says he, "we find every one disposed to believe in witches; at
+a later period we find this predisposition has silently passed away."
+The belief in witchcraft may perhaps be considered a somewhat violent
+illustration, like the change in public opinion about slavery in this
+country. But there can be no doubt that it is talk--somebody's,
+anybody's, everybody's talk--by which these changes are wrought, by
+which each generation comes to feel and think differently from its
+predecessor.
+
+No one ever talks freely about anything without contributing something,
+let it be ever so little, to the unseen forces which carry the race on
+to its final destiny. Even if he does not make a positive impression, he
+counteracts or modifies some other impression, or sets in motion some
+train of ideas in some one else, which helps to change the face of the
+world. So I shall, in disregard of the great laudation of silence which
+filled the earth in the days of Carlyle, say that one of the functions
+of an educated man is to talk; and of course he should try to talk
+wisely.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE.]
+
+
+
+
+GOETHE
+
+(1749-1832)
+
+BY EDWARD DOWDEN
+
+
+Johann Wolfgang Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main on August 28th,
+1749, and died at Weimar on March 22d, 1832. His great life, extending
+over upwards of fourscore years, makes him a man of the eighteenth
+century and also of the nineteenth. He belongs not only to German but to
+European literature. And in the history of European literature his
+position is that of successor to Voltaire and Rousseau. Humanity, as
+Voltaire said, had lost its title-deeds, and the task of the eighteenth
+century was to recover them. Under all Voltaire's zeal for destruction
+in matters of religious belief lay a positive faith and a creative
+sentiment,--a faith in human intellect and the sentiment of social
+justice. What indefatigable toil! what indefatigable play! Surely it was
+not all to establish a negation. Voltaire poured a gay yet bitter _elan_
+into the intellectual movement of his time. Yet amid his various efforts
+for humanity he wanted love; he wanted reverence. And although a
+positive tendency underlies his achievements, we are warranted in
+repeating the common sentence, that upon the whole he destroyed more
+than he built up.
+
+Voltaire fought to enfranchise the understanding. Rousseau dreamed,
+brooded, suffered, to emancipate the heart. A wave of passion, or at
+least of sentiment, swept over Europe with the 'Nouvelle Heloise,' the
+'Emile,' the 'Confessions.' It was Rousseau, exclaims Byron, who "threw
+enchantment over passion," who "knew how to make madness beautiful."
+Such an emancipation of the heart was felt, in the eighteenth century,
+to be a blessed deliverance from the material interests and the eager
+yet too arid speculation of the age. But Byron in that same passage of
+'Childe Harold' names Rousseau "the self-torturing sophist." And a
+sophist Rousseau was. His intellect fed upon fictions, and dangerous
+fictions,--fictions respecting nature, respecting the individual man,
+respecting human society. Therefore his intellect failed to illuminate,
+clarify, tranquilize his heart. His emotions were turbid, restless, and
+lacking in sanity.
+
+Here then were Goethe's two great predecessors: one a most vivacious
+intelligence, the other a brooding sensibility; one aiming at an
+emancipation of the understanding, but deficient in reverence and in
+love; the other aiming at an emancipation of the affections, but
+deficient in sanity of thought. In what relation stood Goethe to these
+great forces of the eighteenth century?
+
+In his old age Goethe, speaking of Voltaire, uses the words "a universal
+source of light." But as a young man he was repelled by "the factious
+dishonesty of Voltaire, and his perversion of so many worthy subjects."
+"He would never have done," says Goethe, "with degrading religion and
+the sacred books, for the sake of injuring priestcraft, as they called
+it." Goethe, indeed, did not deny a use to the spirit of negation.
+Mephistopheles lives and works. Yet he lives and works as the unwilling
+servant of the Lord, and the service he renders is to provoke men from
+indolence to activity.
+
+Into the influence of Rousseau, on the contrary, and into the general
+movement of feeling to which Rousseau belonged, Goethe in his youth was
+caught, almost inevitably; and he abandoned himself to it for a time, it
+might seem without restraint.
+
+Yet Goethe differed from Rousseau as profoundly as he differed from
+Voltaire. Rousseau's undisciplined sensibility, morbidly excited by the
+harshness or imagined harshness of his fellows, by bodily torment, by
+broodings in solitude, became at last one quivering mass of disease. "No
+tragedy had ever a fifth act so squalid." What a contrast to the closing
+scenes of Goethe's life in that house of his, like a modest temple of
+the Muses, listening to Plutarch read aloud by his daughter-in-law, or
+serenely active, "ohne Hast aber ohne Rast" (without haste, but without
+rest), in widening his sympathies with men or enlarging his knowledge of
+nature.
+
+How was this? Why did the ways part so widely for Rousseau and for
+Goethe?
+
+The young creator of 'Werther' may seem to have started on his career as
+a German Rousseau. In reality, 'Werther' expressed only a fragment of
+Goethe's total self. A reserve force of will and an intellect growing
+daily in clearness and in energy would not permit him to end as Rousseau
+ended. In 'Goetz von Berlichingen' there goes up a cry for freedom; it
+presents the more masculine side of that spirit of revolt from the bonds
+of the eighteenth century, that "return to nature," which is presented
+in its more feminine aspects by 'Werther.' But by degrees it became
+evident to Goethe that the only true ideal of freedom is a liberation
+not of the passions, not of the intellect, but of the whole man; that
+this involves a conciliation of all the powers and faculties within us;
+and that such a conciliation can be effected only by degrees, and by
+steadfast toil.
+
+And so we find him willing during ten years at Weimar to undertake work
+which might appear to be fatal to the development of his genius. To
+reform army administration, make good roads, work the mines with
+energetic intelligence, restore the finances to order,--was this fit
+employment for one born to be a poet? Except a few lyrics and the prose
+'Iphigenie,' these years produced no literary work of importance; yet
+Goethe himself speaks of them as his "zweite Schriftstellerepoche."--his
+second epoch as a writer. They were needful to make him a master in the
+art of life, needful to put him into possession of all his powers.
+Men of genius are quick growers; but men of the highest genius, which
+includes the wisdom of human life, are not speedily ripe. Goethe
+had entered literature early; he had stormed the avenues. Now at
+six-and-twenty he was a chief figure in German, even in European,
+literature; and from twenty-six to thirty-seven he published, we may
+say nothing. But though he ceased to astonish the world, he was well
+employed in widening the basis of his existence; in organizing his
+faculties; in conciliating passions, intellect, and will; in applying
+his mind to the real world; in endeavoring to comprehend it aright; in
+testing and training his powers by practical activity.
+
+A time came when he felt that his will and skill were mature; that he
+was no longer an apprentice in the art of living, but a master
+craftsman. Tasks that had grown irksome and were felt to be a
+distraction from higher duties, he now abandoned. Goethe fled for a time
+to Italy, there to receive his degree in the high school of life, and to
+start upon a course of more advanced studies. Thenceforward until his
+closing days the record is one of almost uninterrupted labor in his
+proper fields of literature, art, and science. "In Rome," he wrote, "I
+have for the first time found myself, for the first time come into
+harmony with myself, and grown happy and rational." He had found
+himself, because his passions and his intellect now co-operated; his
+pursuit of truth had all the ardor of a first love; his pursuit of
+beauty was not a fantastic chase, but was subject to rational law; and
+his effort after truth and his effort after beauty were alike supported
+by an adult will.
+
+His task, regarded as a whole, was to do over again the work of the
+Renascence. But whereas the Renascence had been a large national or
+European movement, advancing towards its ends partly through popular
+passions and a new enthusiasm, the work which Goethe accomplished was
+more an affair of intelligence, criticism, conscious self-direction. It
+was less of a flood sweeping away old dikes and dams, and more of a dawn
+quietly and gradually drawing back the borders of darkness and widening
+the skirts of light. A completely developed human being, for the uses of
+the world,--this was the ideal in which Goethe's thoughts centred, and
+towards which his most important writings constantly tend. A completely
+developed State or commonwealth should follow, as an ideal arising out
+of the needs and demands of a complete individual. Goethe knew that
+growth comes not by self-observation and self-analysis, but by exercise.
+Therefore he turned himself and would turn his disciples to action, to
+the objective world; and in order that this action may be profitable, it
+must be definite and within a limited sphere. He preaches
+self-renunciation; but the self-renunciation he commends is not
+self-mortification; it is the active self-abandonment of devotion to our
+appropriate work. Such is the teaching of 'Wilhelm Meister': it traces
+the progress of a youth far from extraordinary, yet having within him
+the capacity for growth, progress through a thousand errors and
+illusions, from splendid dreams to modest reality. Life is discovered by
+Wilhelm to be a difficult piece of scholarship. The cry for freedom in
+'Goetz,' the limitless sigh of passion heard in 'Werther,' are heard no
+more. If freedom is to be attained, it can only be through obedience; if
+we are to "return to nature," it cannot be in Rousseau's way but through
+a wise art of living, an art not at odds with nature, but its
+complement:--
+
+  "This is an art which does mend nature--but
+  The art itself is nature."
+
+If we ask,--for this, after all, is the capital question of
+criticism,--What has Goethe done to make us better? the answer is: He
+has made each of us aspire and endeavor to be no fragment of manhood,
+but a man; he has taught us that to squander ourselves in vain desires
+is the road to spiritual poverty; that to discover our appropriate work,
+and to embody our passion in such work, is the way to true wealth; that
+such passion and such toil must be not servile, but glad and free; that
+the use of our intelligence is not chiefly to destroy, but to guide our
+activity in construction; and that in doing our best work we incorporate
+ourselves in the best possible way in the life of our fellows. Such
+lessons may seem obvious; but they had not been taught by Goethe's great
+predecessors, Voltaire and Rousseau. Goethe, unlike Voltaire, inculcates
+reverence and love; unlike Rousseau, he teaches us to see objects
+clearly as they are, he trains us to sanity. And Europe needed sanity in
+the days of Revolution and in the days which followed of Reaction.
+
+Sanity for the imagination Goethe found in classical art. The young
+leader of the Romantic revival in Germany resigned his leadership; he
+seemed to his contemporaries to have lost the fire and impulse of his
+youth; his work was found cold and formal. A great change had indeed
+taken place within him; but his ardor had only grown steadier and
+stronger, extending now to every part of his complex nature. The change
+was a transition from what is merely inward and personal to what is
+outward and general. Goethe cared less than formerly to fling out his
+private passions, and cared more to comprehend the world and human life
+and to interpret these through art. He did not go into bondage under the
+authority of the ancients; but he found their methods right, and he
+endeavored to work as they had worked. For a time the reaction carried
+him too far: in seeking for what is general, he sometimes passed on to
+what is abstract, and so was forced into the error of offering symbols
+to represent these abstractions, instead of bodying forth his ideas in
+imaginative creations. But in the noble drama of 'Iphigenie,' in the
+epic-idyll of 'Hermann und Dorothea,' and in many of the ballads written
+during his period of close companionship with Schiller, we have examples
+of art at once modern in sentiment and classical in method.
+
+Goethe's faith in the methods of classical art never passed away, but
+his narrow exclusiveness yielded. He became, with certain guiding
+principles which served as a control, a great eclectic, appropriating to
+his own uses whatever he perceived to be excellent. As in 'Hermann und
+Dorothea' he unites the influences of Greek art with true German
+feeling, so in his collection of short lyrics, the 'West-Oestlicher
+Divan' (West-Eastern Divan), he brings together the genius of the Orient
+and that of the Western world, and sheds over both the spiritual
+illumination of the wisdom of his elder years. Gradually his creative
+powers waned, but he was still interested in all--except perhaps
+politics--that can concern the mind; he was still the greatest of
+critics, entering with his intelligence into everything and
+understanding everything, as nearly universal in his sympathies as a
+human mind can be. The Goethe of these elder years is seen to most
+advantage in the 'Conversations with Eckermann.'
+
+The most invulnerable of Goethe's writings are his lyrical poems;
+against the best of these, criticism can allege nothing. They need no
+interpreter. But the reader who studies them in chronological order will
+observe that as time went on, the lyric which is a spontaneous jet of
+feeling is replaced by the lyric in which there is constructive art and
+considerate evolution. In the poems of the 'West-Oestlicher Divan' Goethe
+returns to the lyric of spontaneity, but their inspiration is rather
+that of a gracious wisdom, at once serious and playful, than of passion.
+
+His period of romance and sentiment is best represented by 'The Sorrows
+of Werther.' His adult wisdom of life is found most abundantly in
+'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' The world has long since agreed that
+if Goethe is to be represented by a single work, it shall be by 'Faust.'
+And even those who perceive that 'Faust' is best understood by being
+taken along with Goethe's other writings--his early 'Prometheus,' his
+autobiography, his travels in Italy, his classical dramas, his
+scientific studies, his work as a critic, his vast correspondence, his
+conversations in old age--cannot quarrel with the judgment of the world.
+
+'Faust,' if we include under that name the First and the Second Parts,
+is the work of Goethe's whole life. Begun and even far advanced in early
+manhood, it was taken up again in his midmost years, and was completed
+with a faltering hand in the closing season of his old age. What it
+loses in unity, or at least in harmonious development as a piece of art,
+it gains in autobiographical interest. All his works, Goethe said,
+constituted a great confession. More than any other of his writings,
+'Faust' is the confession of his life.
+
+There are two ways in which a reader may deal with 'Faust.' He may
+choose for his own delight a fragment, detach it and disregard the rest;
+he may view this fragment, if he pleases, as a whole, as a rounded work
+of art. Such a reader will refuse to pass beyond the First Part of the
+vast encyclopaedic poem. To do this is legitimate. The earliest form in
+which we possess the drama, that of the transcript made by Fraeulein von
+Goechhausen, is a tragedy which might be named 'The Tragedy of Margaret.'
+Possibilities of further development lay in the subject, were indeed
+required by the subject, and Goethe had probably already conceived
+certain of them; yet the stadium in the progress of Faust's history
+included in 'The Tragedy of Margaret' had a unity in itself. But a
+reader may approach 'Faust' otherwise; he may view it as expressing the
+complete mind of Goethe on some of the deepest problems of human life.
+Viewing it thus, he must accept the whole work as Goethe has given it;
+he must hold in abeyance, at least for a time, his own particular
+likings and dislikes. While keeping his mind open to all the poetry of
+Faust, he will soon discover that here is something more than a poem. It
+may be unfortunate for the work of art that it belongs, certainly in its
+execution, possibly even in the growth of its conception, to far
+sundered periods of its author's career, when his feelings respecting
+art were different, when his capacity for rendering his ideas was now
+more and now less adequate. Such a reader, however, would part with
+nothing: in what is admirable he finds the master's hand; in what is
+feeble he discovers the same hand, but faltering, and pathetic in its
+infirmity. He is interested in 'Faust' not solely or chiefly as 'The
+Tragedy of Margaret': he finds in it the intellect, the character, the
+life of Goethe; it is a repository of the deepest thoughts and feelings
+concerning human existence of a wise seer, a repository in which he laid
+by those thoughts and feelings during sixty years of his mortal
+wayfaring.
+
+From early manhood to extreme old age 'Faust' was with Goethe, receiving
+now and again, in Frankfort, in Weimar, in Rome, some new accession. We
+can distinguish the strata or formations of youth, of manhood, and of
+the closing years. We recognize by their diversities of style those
+parts which were written when creation was swift and almost involuntary,
+a passion and a joy, and those parts through which Goethe labored at an
+old man's pace, accomplishing to-day a hand's-breadth, to-morrow perhaps
+less, and binding blank pages into his manuscript, that the sight of the
+gaps might irritate him to produce. What unity can such a work possess,
+except that which comes from the fact that it all proceeded from a
+single mind, and that some main threads of thought--for it would be rash
+to speak of a ground idea--run through the several parts and bind them
+together? 'Faust' has not the unity of a lake whose circuit the eye can
+contemplate, a crystal set among the hills. Its unity is that of a
+river, rising far away in mountain solitudes, winding below many a
+mirrored cliff, passing the habitations of men, temple and mart, fields
+of rural toil and fields of war, reaching it may be dull levels, and
+forgetting the bright speed it had, until at last the dash of waves is
+heard, and its course is accomplished; but from first to last one
+stream, proceeding from a single source. Tourists may pick out a
+picturesque fragment of its wanderings, and this is well; but perhaps it
+is better to find the poetry of its entire career, from its cloudy
+cradle to the flats where it loses itself in the ocean.
+
+The first part of 'Faust' is itself the work of more periods than one.
+The original conception may belong to Goethe's student days at
+Strassburg. He had grown weary of the four Faculties,--alas, even of
+theology; he had known a maiden as fair and sweet and simple as
+Gretchen, and he had left her widowed of her first love; and there in
+Strassburg was the presence of that old Cathedral, which inspired so
+terrible a scene in the 'Faust.' From Strassburg he returned to
+Frankfort, and no moments of his career of authorship were more fruitful
+than these which preceded the first Weimar years. It was in the heart of
+the Storm and Stress; it was the time of 'Goetz' and 'Mahomet' and the
+'Wandering Jew' and 'Werther' and 'Prometheus.' Here in Faust was
+another and a nobler Werther seeking the infinite; here was another
+Prometheus, a Titan shackled yet unsubduable. By Goethe's twenty-sixth
+year the chief portions of the 'Faust, a Fragment,' published when he
+was forty-one, had been written. But two scenes were added in Rome,--one
+of these strange in its fantasy, the Witches' Kitchen,--as if to show
+that the poet of the North was not quite enslaved by the beauty of
+classic art. It was in the last decade of the eighteenth century that
+Schiller succeeded in persuading Goethe to open his Faust papers, and
+try to recover the threads of his design. Not until 1808, Goethe's
+fifty-ninth year, was the First Part published as we now possess it. It
+is therefore incorrect to speak of this Part as the work of the author's
+youth; even here a series of strata belonging to different periods can
+be distinguished, and critics have contended that even in this Part may
+be discovered two schemes or plans not wholly in harmony each with the
+other.
+
+The first Fragment was written, as has been said, in the spirit of the
+Storm and Stress. Goethe was weary of the four Faculties. The magic work
+of the time which was to restore vigor and joy to men was _Nature_. This
+is the theme of the opening scene of 'Faust.' Among old instruments and
+dusty folios and ancestral lumber and brute skeletons, away from Nature
+and her living founts of inspiration, the old scholar has found neither
+joy nor true knowledge. He opens the book of Nostradamus and gazes upon
+the sign of the Macrocosm; here in a symbol he beholds the life and
+energy of nature:--
+
+  "Where shall I grasp thee, infinite Nature, where?
+  Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life whereon
+  Hang heaven and earth."
+
+He cannot grasp them; and then turning from the great Cosmos, he thinks
+he may at least dare to invoke the spirit of our own mother planet
+Earth. But to Faust, with eyes bleared with the dust of the study, to
+Faust, living in his own speculations or in dogmatic systems, the aspect
+of the Earth Spirit--a living fire--is terrible. He falls back upon
+himself almost despairing, when the famulus Wagner enters. What Werner
+was to the idealist Wilhelm Meister, Wagner is to the idealist Faust:
+the mere scraping together of a little hoard of barren facts contents
+Wagner; such grief, such despair as Faust's, are for this Philistine of
+learning impossible. And then the fragment of 1790 passes on to
+Mephistopheles. Whether or not Goethe found the features of his critical
+demon in Herder (as Grimm supposes), and afterwards united these to the
+more pronounced likeness in his friend Mephistopheles Merck, matters
+little. Whether Herder and Merck had been present or not, Goethe would
+have found Mephistopheles in his own heart. For the contrast between the
+idealist Faust and the realist Mephistopheles exists in some form or
+other in almost every great creation of Goethe. It is the contrast
+between Werther and Albert, between Tasso and Antonio, between Edward
+and the Captain. Sometimes the nobler spirit of worldliness is dwelt on,
+as in the case of Antonio; sometimes the cold, hard, cynical side, as in
+the case of Mephistopheles. The theme of Faust as originally conceived
+was the turning of an idealist from his own private thoughts and dreams
+to the real world; from all that is unnatural,--systems, speculations,
+barren knowledge,--to nature and the founts of life; from the solitary
+cell to the company of men; to action, beauty, life, and love. If he
+can really succeed in achieving this wisely and well, Faust is saved. He
+is delivered from solitude, the inane of speculation, the vagueness of
+idealism, and made one with the band of his toiling fellows. But to
+accompany him there is the spirit of base worldliness, the realist, the
+cynic, who sees the meaner side of all that is actual, who if possible
+will seduce Faust into accepting the world apart from that elevating
+spirit which ennobles actual life, who will try to baffle and degrade
+Faust by degrading all that he now seeks,--action and beauty and life
+and love.
+
+It is Goethe himself who is at odds with himself,--the realist Goethe
+set over against the idealist Goethe; and Mephistopheles is the base
+realist, the cynic whose endeavor is to mar the union of high poetry and
+high prose in human life, which union of high poetry with high prose
+Goethe always looked upon as the true condition of man's activity. In
+the Prologue in Heaven, written when Schiller had persuaded Goethe to
+take up the threads of his play, the Lord speaks of Faust as his
+servant. Mephistopheles wagers that he will seduce Faust from his
+allegiance to the Highest. The Lord does not wager; he _knows_:--
+
+  "Though now he serve me in a maze of doubt,
+    Yet I will lead him soon where all is clear;
+  The gardener knows, when first the bushes sprout,
+    That bloom and fruit will deck the riper year."
+
+These vague passionate longings of Faust after truth and reality and
+life and love are not evil; they are good: they are as yet indeed but
+the sprouting of the immature leaf and bud, but the Lord sees in these
+the fruit that is to be. Therefore let Mephistopheles, the spirit of
+negation, try his worst, and at the last discover how an earnest
+striver's ways are justified by God. Faust may wander, err, fall,
+grievously offend,--"as long as man lives, man errs;" but for him who
+ever strives upward, through all his errors, there is redemption in the
+end.
+
+The poem belongs to its epoch. Faust is the idealist, Mephistopheles is
+the realist, of the eighteenth century. Faust aspires to nature and
+freedom like one who had drunk deeply of Rousseau. Mephistopheles speaks
+like a degraded disciple of Voltaire, who has lost his master's positive
+faith in the human reason. Goethe can accept as his own neither the
+position of Voltaire nor that of Rousseau; but actually he started in
+life as an antagonist of Voltaire and a disciple of Rousseau, and in
+like manner his Faust starts on his career as one who longs for a
+"return to nature." While from merely negative criticism nothing
+virtuous can be born, the vague longings of one who loves and hopes
+promise measureless good.
+
+Faust's vast aspirations, then, are not sinful; they only need to be
+limited and directed to suitable ends. It is as God's servant that he
+goes forth with the Demon from his study to the world. And
+Mephistopheles's first attempt to degrade Faust is a failure. In the
+orgy of Auerbach's cellar, while the boisterous young bloods clash their
+glasses, the old scholar sits silent, isolated, ashamed. It is only by
+infecting his blood with the witch's poison that Mephistopheles can lay
+hold of the spirit of Faust even for a time; and had he not seen in the
+mirror that vision of Helena, whom he rightly loves, and whom indeed he
+needs, he could not have put to his lips the filthy brewage of the
+witch. But now indeed he is snared; the poison rages in his veins; for
+one hour he is transformed into what the world basely calls a man of
+pleasure. Yet Faust is not wholly lost: his better self, the untrained,
+untamed idealist, begins to reassert its power; the fumes of the poison
+dissipate themselves. Guilty though he be, his love of Margaret is not
+what Mephistopheles requires that it should be: it is not calculating,
+egoistic, cynical, nor dull, easeful, and lethargic. It is not the crime
+of an experienced worldling nor of a dull, low liver: it is the crime of
+one whose unwise heart and untaught imagination delude him; and
+therefore though his fall be deep, it is not fatal. The wrong he has
+wrought may be blind and terrible as that of Othello to Desdemona; but
+it is not the serpentine stinging of an Iago or a Mephistopheles.
+
+So through anguish and remorse Faust is doing off the swathe-bands of
+delusion, learning to master his will, learning his own heart, learning
+the meaning of existence: he does not part from his ideal self, his high
+aspirations, his ardent hopes; he is rather transforming these into
+realities; he is advancing from dreams to facts, so that in the end,
+when his life becomes a lofty prose, it may be interpenetrated by a
+noble poetry.
+
+It were long to trace the history of Faust through the ever purifying
+and ascending scale of energies exhibited in the Second Part of the
+drama. Affairs of State, science, art, war--all that Goethe had known by
+experience--appear in this encyclopaedic poem. One word, however, must be
+said respecting the 'Helena.' It is a mistake to view this central
+portion of the Second Part as solely or chiefly an allegory of the
+wedlock of classic and romantic art. As science is shown to form a
+needful part of Faust's turning from the inane of metaphysics to the
+positive world, so from the Greek spirit he learns sanity and strength;
+the deliverance of the ideal man in Faust is aided by the beauty and the
+healthfulness of classic art. Through beauty, as Schiller tried to show
+in his letters on 'AEsthetic Culture,' we attain to freedom. Faust is not
+an artist, but a _man_; Helena is but one of the spirits whose influence
+is needed to make him real and elevated. It is she who qualifies him
+for achieving practical work in a high, ideal spirit.
+
+The Fourth Act of the Second Part is wholly concerned with practical
+work. What is this which engages the student of the metaphysic cell, who
+had gone through the four Faculties, and is now once again grown old?
+What is this? Only well-defined and useful activity. He has rescued some
+acres of arable land from the rage of the barren sea.
+
+But Faust is not yet wholly delivered from evil; his activity is useful,
+indeed, but it lacks the finer grace of charity. He commissions
+Mephistopheles to destroy the cottage of old Philemon and Baucis, which
+stands in the way of his territorial improvements. It is the last crime
+of the unregenerate will. The four gray women--Care and Blame and Want
+and Crime--now assail him; but there is virtue in him to the last.
+However it may be with himself, grant only that ages hence the children
+of men, free and happy, may dwell upon the soil which he has saved for
+their place of labor and of love,--grant but this, and even in the
+anticipation of it he is made possessor of the highest bliss. Nor indeed
+is higher permitted to man on earth. And now that Faust has at last
+found satisfaction, and said to the passing moment, "Stay, thou art so
+fair," the time has come for Mephistopheles to claim his soul. But in
+this very aspiration after the perfect joy of others--not his own--Faust
+is forever delivered from the Evil One. The gray old man lies stretched
+upon the sand. Higher powers than those of his own will take him, guard
+him, lead him forward. The messengers of God bear away his immortal
+part. All Holy Hermits, all Holy Innocents, all Holy Virgins, the less
+and the greater Angels, and redeemed women who have sinned and sorrowed
+and have been purified, aid in his ultimate purification. It is the same
+thought which was interpreted in a lower key when Wilhelm Meister's fate
+was intrusted to Natalia. Usefulness is good; activity is good: but over
+all these should soar and brood the Divine graces of life, and love the
+chief of these. That which leads us farther than all the rest is what
+Goethe names "the imperishable womanly grace," that of love. And so the
+great mystery-play reaches its close.
+
+                                          [Signature: Edward Dowden]
+
+    BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born at
+    Frankfort-on-the-Main, August 28th, 1749; he attended the
+    University of Leipzig 1765-1768, and went to Strassburg in
+    1770, where he met Herder, made the acquaintance of
+    Shakespeare, and in 1771 took his degree. 'Goetz von
+    Berlichingen' in 1773 announced the dawn of a new era in
+    German letters, and in 1774 'The Sorrows of Werther' made the
+    poet world-famous. In 1775 Goethe accepted the invitation of
+    Duke Carl August and went to Weimar, which remained
+    thenceforth his home. The Italian journey, marking an epoch in
+    the poet's life, took place in 1786-1787. The 'Faust Fragment'
+    appeared in 1790. The friendship with Schiller, also of
+    far-reaching importance in Goethe's life, began in 1794 and
+    was terminated only by Schiller's death in 1805. 'Hermann and
+    Dorothea' was published in 1797. In 1806 Goethe married
+    Christiane Vulpius. The First Part of 'Faust' appeared in
+    1808;--in 1816 the poet is at work upon his 'Autobiography'
+    and the 'Italian Journey'; the first part of 'Wilhelm
+    Meister's Apprenticeship' appeared in 1821, and was completed
+    in 1829. 'Faust' was finished on July 20th, 1831. Goethe died
+    at Weimar on March 22d, 1832.
+
+
+
+FROM 'FAUST'
+
+CHORUS OF THE ARCHANGELS; FROM THE PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN
+
+Shelley's Translation
+
+
+  _Raphael_--
+                  The sun makes music as of old
+                    Amid the rival spheres of heaven,
+                  On its predestined circle rolled
+                    With thunder speed; the angels even
+                  Draw strength from gazing on its glance,
+                    Though none its meaning fathom may
+                  The world's unwithered countenance
+                    Is bright as at creation's day.
+
+  _Gabriel_--
+                  And swift and swift with rapid lightness
+                    The adorned earth spins silently,
+                  Alternating Elysian brightness
+                    With deep and dreadful night; the sea
+                  Foams in broad billows from the deep
+                    Up to the rocks, and rocks and ocean,
+                  Onward, with spheres which never sleep,
+                    Are hurried in eternal motion.
+  _Michael_--
+                  And tempests in contention roar
+                    From land to sea, from sea to land;
+                  And raging, weave a chain of power,
+                    Which girds the earth as with a band.
+                  A flashing desolation there
+                    Flames before the thunder's way;
+                  But thy servants, Lord, revere
+                    The gentle changes of thy day.
+
+  CHORUS OF THE THREE
+
+                  The angels draw strength from thy glance,
+                    Though no one comprehend thee may;
+                  Thy world's unwithered countenance
+                    Is bright as on creation's day.
+
+
+
+SCENES FROM 'FAUST'
+
+Translated by Bayard Taylor
+
+    All the following selections from 'Faust' are from Taylor's
+    translation. Copyright 1870, by Bayard Taylor, and reprinted
+    here by permission of and special agreement with Mrs. Taylor,
+    and Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers, Boston.
+
+
+FAUST AND WAGNER
+
+  FAUST
+
+      Oh, happy he, who still renews
+        The hope from Error's deeps to rise forever!
+      That which one does not know, one needs to use,
+        And what one knows, one uses never.
+      But let us not, by such despondence, so
+        The fortune of this hour embitter!
+      Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,
+        The green-embosomed houses glitter!
+      The glow retreats; done is the day of toil;
+        It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;
+      Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil,
+        Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!
+      Then would I see eternal Evening gild
+        The silent world beneath me glowing,
+  On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,
+      The silver brook to golden rivers flowing.
+      The mountain chain, with all its gorges deep,
+    Would then no more impede my godlike motion;
+    And now before mine eyes expands the ocean
+        With all its bays, in shining sleep!
+      Yet finally the weary god is sinking;
+        The new-born impulse fires my mind.--
+        I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking.
+          The Day before me and the Night behind.
+  Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,--
+         A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.
+         Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid
+      Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me.
+           Yet in each soul is born the pleasure
+         Of yearning onward, upward and away.
+      When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,
+           The lark sends down his flickering lay,
+           When over crags and piny highlands
+             The poising eagle slowly soars,
+           And over plains and lakes and islands
+             The crane sails by to other shores.
+
+  WAGNER
+
+      I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices,
+      But never yet such impulse felt, as this is.
+      One soon fatigues on woods and fields to look,
+        Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:
+        How otherwise the mental raptures bear us
+          From page to page, from book to book!
+        Then winter nights take loveliness untold,
+     As warmer life in every limb had crowned you;
+  And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,
+     All heaven descends, and opens bright around you!
+
+  FAUST
+
+      One impulse art thou conscious of, at best;
+         Oh, never seek to know the other!
+      Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,
+    And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.
+      One with tenacious organs holds in love
+    And clinging lust the world in its embraces;
+      The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,
+            Into the high ancestral spaces.
+            If there be airy spirits near,
+    'Twixt heaven and earth on potent errands fleeing,
+       Let them drop down the golden atmosphere,
+    And bear me forth to new and varied being!
+       Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine,
+          To waft me o'er the world at pleasure,
+     I would not for the costliest stores of treasure--
+       Not for a monarch's robe--the gift resign.
+
+
+FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?
+        When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor.
+        E'er understood by such as thou?
+  Yet hast thou food which never satiates now:
+        The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,
+  That runs quicksilver-like one's fingers through;
+  A game whose winnings no man ever knew;
+        A maid that even from my breast
+  Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,
+            And Honor's godlike zest,
+       The meteor that a moment dances,--
+    Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,
+  And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+        Such a demand alarms me not:
+      Such treasures have I, and can show them.
+  But still the time may reach us, good my friend,
+    When peace we crave, and more luxurious diet.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet,
+        There let at once my record end!
+      Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,
+        Until self-pleased myself I see,--
+      Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,
+        Let that day be the last for me!
+  The bet I offer.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                Done!
+
+  FAUST
+
+                      And heartily!
+  When thus I hail the Moment flying:
+    "Ah, still delay--thou art so fair!"--
+  Then bind me in thy bonds undying,
+    My final ruin then declare!
+  Then let the death-bell chime the token,
+    Then art thou from thy service free!
+  The clock may stop, the hand be broken,
+    Then Time be finished unto me!
+
+
+FOREST AND CAVERN
+
+  FAUST [_alone_]
+
+  Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
+  For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain
+  Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.
+  Thou gav'st me nature as a kingdom grand,
+  With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou
+  Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st,
+  But grantest that in her profoundest breast
+  I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.
+  The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead
+  Before me, teaching me to know my brothers
+  In air and water and the silent wood.
+  And when the storm in forests roars and grinds,
+  The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs
+  And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down,
+  And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,--
+  Then to the cave secure thou leadest me,
+  Then show'st me mine own self, and in my breast
+  The deep mysterious miracles unfold.
+  And when the perfect moon before my gaze
+  Comes up with soothing light, around me float
+  From every precipice and thicket damp
+  The silvery phantoms of the ages past,
+  And temper the austere delight of thought.
+
+  That nothing can be perfect unto Man
+  I now am conscious. With this ecstasy,
+  Which brings me near and nearer to the gods,
+  Thou gav'st the comrade, whom I now no more
+  Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he
+  Demeans me to myself, and with a breath,
+  A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness.
+  Within my breast he fans a lawless fire,
+  Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form:
+  Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment,
+  And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.
+
+  MARGARET [_At the spinning-wheel, alone_]
+
+  My peace is gone,
+  My heart is sore:
+  I never shall find it,
+  Ah, nevermore!
+
+  Save I have him near,
+  The grave is here;
+  The world is gall
+  And bitterness all.
+
+  My poor weak head
+    Is racked and crazed;
+  My thought is lost,
+    My senses mazed.
+
+  My peace is gone,
+    My heart is sore:
+  I never shall find it,
+    Ah, nevermore!
+
+  To see him, him only,
+    At the pane I sit;
+  To meet him, him only,
+    The house I quit.
+
+  His lofty gait,
+    His noble size,
+  The smile of his mouth,
+    The power of his eyes,
+
+  And the magic flow
+    Of his talk, the bliss
+  In the clasp of his hand,
+    And ah! his kiss!
+
+  My peace is gone,
+    My heart is sore:
+  I never shall find it,
+    Ah, nevermore!
+
+  My bosom yearns
+    For him alone;
+  Ah, dared I clasp him,
+    And hold, and own!
+
+  And kiss his mouth
+    To heart's desire,
+  And on his kisses
+    At last expire!
+
+
+MARTHA'S GARDEN
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Promise me, Henry!--
+
+  FAUST
+
+  What I can!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+    How is't with thy religion, pray?
+  Thou art a dear, good-hearted man,
+    And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Leave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender;
+  For love, my blood and life would I surrender,
+  And as for faith and church, I grant to each his own.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  That's not enough: we must believe thereon.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Must we?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              Would that I had some influence!
+  Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  I honor them.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+                  Desiring no possession.
+  'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession.
+  Believest thou in God?
+
+  FAUST
+
+                  My darling, who shall dare
+  "I believe in God!" to say?
+    Ask priest or sage the answer to declare,
+        And it will seem a mocking play,
+  A sarcasm on the asker.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+                     Then thou believest not!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance!
+            Who dare express Him?
+            And who profess Him,
+          Saying: I believe in Him!
+            Who, feeling, seeing,
+            Deny His being,
+          Saying: I believe Him not!
+            The All-enfolding,
+            The All-upholding,
+          Folds and upholds he not
+            Thee, me, Himself?
+    Arches not there the sky above us?
+    Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth?
+        And rise not, on us shining
+        Friendly, the everlasting stars?
+        Look I not, eye to eye, on thee,
+        And feel'st not, thronging
+        To head and heart, the force,
+        Still weaving its eternal secret,
+        Invisible, visible, round thy life?
+    Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart,
+  And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art,
+        Call it, then, what thou wilt,--
+      Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!--
+        I have no name to give it!
+             Feeling is all in all:
+        The Name is sound and smoke,
+        Obscuring Heaven's clear glow.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  All that is fine and good, to hear it so:
+  Much the same way the preacher spoke,
+  Only with slightly different phrases.
+
+  FAUST
+
+            The same thing, in all places,
+  All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day--
+    Each in its language--say;
+  Then why not I in mine as well?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  To hear it thus, it may seem passable;
+  And yet some hitch in't there must be,
+  For thou hast no Christianity.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Dear love!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              I've long been grieved to see
+  That thou art in such company.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  How so?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              The man who with thee goes, thy mate,
+    Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate.
+          In all my life there's nothing
+  Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing
+      As his repulsive face has done.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  I feel his presence like something ill.
+  I've else, for all, a kindly will,
+  But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth,
+  The secret horror of him returneth;
+  And I think the man a knave, as I live!
+  If I do him wrong, may God forgive!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  There must be such queer birds, however.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+    Live with the like of him may I never!
+    When once inside the door comes he,
+    He looks around so sneeringly,
+            And half in wrath:
+  One sees that in nothing no interest he hath:
+  'Tis written on his very forehead
+  That love, to him, is a thing abhorred.
+  I am so happy on thine arm,
+  So free, so yielding, and so warm,
+  And in his presence stifled seems my heart.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Foreboding angel that thou art!
+
+
+IN THE DUNGEON
+
+    _In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater
+    Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it_
+
+  MARGARET [_Putting fresh flowers in the pots_]
+
+            Incline, O Maiden,
+            Thou sorrow-laden,
+  Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!
+
+            The sword thy heart in,
+            With anguish smarting,
+  Thou lookest up to where thy Son is slain!
+
+            Thou seest the Father;
+            The sad sighs gather,
+  And bear aloft thy sorrow and his pain!
+
+            Ah, past guessing,
+            Beyond expressing,
+  The pangs that wring my flesh and bone!
+    Why this anxious heart so burneth,
+    Why it trembleth, why it yearneth,
+  Knowest thou, and thou alone!
+
+    Where'er I go, what sorrow,
+    What woe, what woe and sorrow
+      Within my bosom aches!
+    Alone, and ah! unsleeping,
+    I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,--
+      The heart within me breaks.
+
+    The pots before my window,
+      Alas! my tears did wet,
+    As in the early morning
+      For thee these flowers I set.
+    Within my lonely chamber
+      The morning sun shone red:
+    I sat in utter sorrow,
+      Already on my bed.
+
+  Help! rescue me from death and stain!
+                  O Maiden!
+                Thou sorrow-laden,
+  Incline thy countenance upon my pain!
+
+
+IN THE DUNGEON
+
+  FAUST
+
+  _With a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_
+
+  A shudder, long unfelt, comes o'er me;
+  Mankind's collected woe o'erwhelms me here.
+  She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me,
+        And all her crime was a delusion dear!
+            What! I delay to free her?
+            I dread, once again to see her?
+  On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near.
+
+       [_He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside._]
+
+       _My mother the harlot,
+         Who put me to death;
+       My father the varlet,
+         Who eaten me hath!
+       Little sister, so good,
+       Laid my bones in the wood,
+     In the damp moss and clay:
+  Then was I a beautiful bird o' the wood:
+       Fly away! Fly away!_
+
+  FAUST [_unlocking_]
+
+        She does not dream her lover listens near;
+  That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear.
+
+  MARGARET [_hiding herself on the pallet_]
+
+  Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!
+
+  FAUST [_whispering_]
+
+  Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee.
+
+  MARGARET [_throwing herself before him_]
+
+  Art thou a man? then pity my distress!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee!
+
+                     [_He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them._
+
+  MARGARET [_on her knees_]
+
+  Who, headsman! unto thee such power
+        Over me could give?
+  Thou'rt come for me at midnight hour:
+      Have mercy on me; let me live!
+  Is't not soon enough when morning chime has rung?
+                                                       [_She rises._
+      And I am yet so young, so young!
+      And now death comes, and ruin!
+    I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing.
+      My love was near, but now he's far;
+  Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are.
+      Seize me not thus so violently!
+    Spare me! What have I done to thee?
+      Let me not vainly entreat thee!
+  I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Shall I outlive this misery?
+
+  MARGARET
+
+        Now am I wholly in thy might.
+              But let me suckle, first, my baby!
+        I blissed it all this livelong night;
+              They took 't away, to vex me, maybe,
+        And now they say I killed the child outright.
+            And never shall I be glad again.
+  They sing songs about me! 'tis bad of the folk to do it!
+        There's an old story has the same refrain;
+            Who bade them so construe it?
+
+  FAUST [_falling upon his knees_]
+
+  Here lieth one who loves thee ever,
+  The thraldom of thy woe to sever.
+
+  MARGARET [_flinging herself beside him_]
+
+  Oh let us kneel, and call the saints to hide us!
+            Under the steps beside us,
+            The threshold under,
+            Hell heaves in thunder!
+            The Evil One
+            With terrible wrath
+            Seeketh a path
+            His prey to discover!
+
+  FAUST [_aloud_]
+
+  Margaret! Margaret!
+
+  MARGARET [_attentively listening_]
+
+  That was the voice of my lover!
+
+                   [_She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off._
+
+        Where is he? I heard him call me.
+        I am free! No one shall enthrall me.
+              To his neck will I fly,
+              On his bosom lie!
+  On the threshold he stood, and _Margaret!_ calling,
+  'Midst of hell's howling and noises appalling,
+  'Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision,
+  I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  'Tis I!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  'Tis thou! O, say it once again!
+                                                    [_Clasping him._
+  'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?
+  The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain?
+      'Tis thou! Thou comest to save me,
+                  And I am saved!
+              Again the street I see
+              Where first I looked on thee;
+    And the garden, brightly blooming,
+    Where I and Martha wait thy coming.
+
+  FAUST [_struggling to leave_]
+
+  Come! Come with me!
+
+  [Illustration: _FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON._
+  Photogravure from a Drawing by A. Leisen-Mayer.]
+
+  MARGARET
+
+              Delay, now!
+  So fain I stay, when thou delayest!
+                                                   [_Caressing him._
+
+  FAUST
+
+              Away, now!
+        If longer here thou stayest,
+  We shall be made to dearly rue it.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+         Kiss me!--canst no longer do it?
+      My friend, so short a time thou 'rt missing,
+        And hast unlearned thy kissing?
+      Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast?
+    Where once a heaven thy glances did create me,
+      A heaven thy loving words expressed,
+  And thou didst kiss as thou wouldst suffocate me--
+                      Kiss me!
+                  Or I'll kiss thee!
+                                                [_She embraces him._
+  Ah, woe! thy lips are chill,
+      And still.
+  How changed in fashion
+      Thy passion!
+  Who has done me this ill?
+                                         [_She turns away from him._
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold:
+  I'll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousandfold;
+        But follow now! 'Tis all I beg of thee.
+
+  MARGARET [_turning to him_]
+
+  And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?
+
+  FAUST
+
+  'Tis I! Come on!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+                      Thou wilt unloose my chain,
+  And in thy lap wilt take me once again.
+  How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?--
+  Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak'st free?
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Come! come! The night already vanisheth.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      My mother have I put to death;
+      I've drowned the baby born to thee.
+      Was it not given to thee and me?
+  Thee, too!--'Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem--
+      Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream!
+      Thy dear, dear hand!--But, ah, 'tis wet!
+      Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet
+            There's blood thereon.
+          Ah, God! what hast thou done?
+          Nay, sheathe thy sword at last!
+            Do not affray me!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Oh, let the past be past!
+    Thy words will slay me!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      No, no! Thou must outlive us.
+  Now I'll tell thee the graves to give us:
+      Thou must begin to-morrow
+          The work of sorrow!
+      The best place give to my mother,
+      Then close at her side my brother,
+          And me a little away,
+      But not too very far, I pray!
+  And here, on my right breast, my baby lay!
+      Nobody else will lie beside me!--
+      Ah, within thine arms to hide me,
+  That was a sweet and a gracious bliss,
+  But no more, no more can I attain it!
+  I would force myself on thee and constrain it,
+      And it seems thou repellest my kiss:
+      And yet 'tis thou, so good, so kind to see!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  If thou feelest it is I, then come with me!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Out yonder?
+
+  FAUST
+
+  To freedom.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      If the grave is there,
+    Death lying in wait, then come!
+    From here to eternal rest:
+    No further step--no, no!
+  Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  I dare not go: there's no hope any more.
+  Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay!
+  It is so wretched, forced to beg my living,
+  And a bad conscience sharper misery giving!
+  It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken,
+  And I'd still be followed and taken!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  I'll stay with thee.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      Be quick! Be quick!
+      Save thy perishing child!
+      Away! Follow the ridge
+      Up by the brook,
+      Over the bridge,
+      Into the wood,
+  To the left, where the plank is placed
+      In the pool!
+      Seize it in haste!
+      'Tis trying to rise,
+      'Tis struggling still!
+      Save it! Save it!
+
+  FAUST
+
+      Recall thy wandering will!
+  One step, and thou art free at last!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+      If the mountain we had only passed!
+      There sits my mother upon a stone,--
+          I feel an icy shiver!
+      There sits my mother upon a stone,
+        And her head is wagging ever.
+  She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o'er;
+      She slept so long that she wakes no more.
+        She slept, while we were caressing:
+        Ah, those were the days of blessing!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Here words and prayers are nothing worth;
+  I'll venture, then, to bear thee forth.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  No--let me go! I'll suffer no force!
+  Grasp me not so murderously!
+  I've done, else, all things for the love of thee.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Day? Yes, the day comes,--the last day breaks for me!
+          My wedding day it was to be!
+      Tell no one thou hast been with Margaret!
+        Woe for my garland! The chances
+          Are over--'tis all in vain!
+          We shall meet once again,
+            But not at the dances!
+      The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken:
+              The square below
+          And the streets overflow:
+      The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken.
+      I am seized, and bound, and delivered--
+         Shoved to the block--they give the sign!
+      Now over each neck has quivered
+        The blade that is quivering over mine.
+          Dumb lies the world like the grave!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Oh, had I ne'er been born!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_appears outside_]
+
+      Off! or you're lost ere morn.
+  Useless talking, delaying, and praying!
+  My horses are neighing:
+  The morning twilight is near.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  What rises up from the threshold here?
+      He! he! suffer him not!
+  What does he want in this holy spot?
+  He seeks me!
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Thou shalt live.
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Judgment of God! myself to thee I give.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_to Faust_]
+
+  Come! or I'll leave her in the lurch, and thee!
+
+  MARGARET
+
+  Thine am I, Father! rescue me!
+  Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me,
+  Camp around, and from evil ward me!
+  Henry! I shudder to think of thee.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  She is judged!
+
+  VOICE [_from above_]
+
+  She is saved!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_to Faust_]
+
+  Hither to me!
+                                        [_He disappears with Faust._
+
+  VOICE [_from within, dying away_]
+
+  Henry! Henry!
+
+
+THE DEATH OF FOUST
+
+  LEMURES [_Digging with mocking gestures_]
+
+  In youth when I did love, did love,
+    Methought it was very sweet;
+  When 'twas jolly and merry every way,
+    And I blithely moved my feet.
+
+  But now old Age, with his stealing steps,
+    Hath clawed me with his crutch:
+  I stumbled over the door of a grave;
+    Why leave they open such?
+
+  FAUST [_Comes forth from the palace, groping his way along the
+  door-posts_]
+
+  How I rejoice to hear the clattering spade!
+    It is the crowd, for me in service moiling,
+  Till Earth be reconciled to toiling,
+  Till the proud waves be stayed,
+    And the sea girded with a rigid zone.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_aside_]
+
+  And yet thou'rt laboring for us alone,
+    With all thy dikes and bulwarks daring;
+    Since thou for Neptune art preparing--
+  The Ocean Devil--carousal great.
+    In every way shall ye be stranded;
+    The elements with us are banded,
+  And ruin is the certain fate.
+
+  FAUST
+
+  Overseer!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                Here!
+
+  FAUST
+
+                    However possible,
+    Collect a crowd of men with vigor,
+    Spur by indulgence, praise, or rigor,--
+    Reward, allure, conscript, compel!
+  Each day report me, and correctly note
+  How grows in length the undertaken moat.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES [_half aloud_]
+
+  When they to me the information gave,
+  They spake not of a moat, but of--_a grave_.
+
+  FAUST
+
+    Below the hills a marshy plain
+  Infects what I so long have been retrieving;
+    This stagnant pool likewise to drain
+  Were now my latest and my best achieving.
+  To many millions let me furnish soil,
+  Though not secure, yet free to active toil;
+  Green, fertile fields, where men and herds go forth
+  At once, with comfort, on the newest earth,
+  And swiftly settled on the hill's firm base,
+  Created by the bold, industrious race.
+  A land like Paradise here, round about;
+  Up to the brink the tide may roar without,
+  And though it gnaw, to burst with force the limit,
+  By common impulse all unite to hem it.
+  Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence;
+    The last result of wisdom stamps it true:
+  He only earns his freedom and existence
+    Who daily conquers them anew.
+  Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away
+  Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day:
+  And such a throng I fain would see,--
+  Stand on free soil among a people free!
+  Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing:
+    "_Ah, still delay--thou art so fair!_"
+  The traces cannot, of mine earthly being,
+    In aeons perish,--they are there!
+  In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss,
+  I now enjoy the highest Moment,--this!
+                            [_Faust sinks back: the Lemures take him
+                            and lay him upon the ground._]
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  No joy could sate him, and suffice no bliss!
+    To catch but shifting shapes was his endeavor:
+  The latest, poorest, emptiest Moment--this,--
+    He wished to hold it fast forever.
+  Me he resisted in such vigorous wise,
+  But Time is lord, on earth the old man lies.
+  The clock stands still--
+
+  CHORUS
+
+              Stands still! silent as midnight, now!
+  The index falls.
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+  It falls; and it is finished, here!
+
+  CHORUS
+
+  'Tis past!
+
+  MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+              Past! a stupid word.
+              If past, then why?
+  Past and pure Naught, complete monotony!
+  What good for us, this endlessly creating?--
+  What is created then annihilating?
+  "And now it's past!" Why read a page so twisted?
+  'Tis just the same as if it ne'er existed,
+  Yet goes in circles round as if it had, however:
+  I'd rather choose, instead, the Void forever.
+
+
+THE SALVATION OF FAUST
+
+  ANGELS [_Soaring in the higher atmosphere, bearing the immortal part
+  of Faust_]
+
+  The noble spirit now is free,
+    And saved from evil scheming:
+  Whoe'er aspires unweariedly
+    Is not beyond redeeming.
+  And if he feels the grace of love
+    That from on high is given,
+  The blessed hosts, that wait above,
+    Shall welcome him to heaven!
+
+  THE YOUNGER ANGELS
+
+  They, the roses, freely spended
+  By the penitent, the glorious,
+  Helped to make the fight victorious,
+  And the lofty work is ended.
+  We this precious soul have won us;
+  Evil ones we forced to shun us;
+  Devils fled us when we hit them:
+  'Stead of pangs of hell, that bit them,
+  Love pangs felt they, sharper, vaster:
+  Even he, old Satan Master,
+  Pierced with keenest pain retreated.
+  Now rejoice! The work's completed!
+
+  THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS
+
+  Earth's residue to bear
+    Hath sorely pressed us;
+  It were not pure and fair,
+    Though 'twere asbestus.
+  When every element
+    The mind's high forces
+  Have seized, subdued, and blent,
+   No angel divorces
+  Twin natures single grown,
+    That inly mate them:
+  Eternal love alone
+    Can separate them.
+
+  THE YOUNGER ANGELS
+
+  Mist-like on heights above,
+    We now are seeing
+  Nearer and nearer move
+    Spiritual Being.
+  The clouds are growing clear;
+  And moving throngs appear
+      Of blessed boys,
+  Free from the earthly gloom,
+      In circling poise,
+    Who taste the cheer
+  Of the new springtime bloom
+    Of the upper sphere.
+  Let them inaugurate
+  Him to the perfect state,
+    Now, as their peer!
+
+  THE BLESSED BOYS
+
+  Gladly receive we now
+    Him, as a chrysalis:
+  Therefore achieve we now
+    Pledge of our bliss.
+  The earth-flakes dissipate
+    That cling around him!
+  See, he is fair and great!
+    Divine Life hath crowned him.
+
+  DOCTOR MARIANUS [_In the highest, purest cell_]
+
+  Free is the view at last,
+    The spirit lifted:
+  There women, floating past,
+    Are upward drifted:
+  The Glorious One therein,
+    With star-crown tender,--
+  The pure, the Heavenly Queen,
+    I know her splendor.
+
+  [_Enraptured_]
+
+  Highest Mistress of the World!
+    Let me in the azure
+  Tent of Heaven, in light unfurled,
+    Here thy Mystery measure!
+  Justify sweet thoughts that move
+    Breast of man to meet thee,
+  And with holy bliss of love
+    Bear him up to greet thee!
+  With unconquered courage we
+    Do thy bidding highest;
+  But at once shall gentle be,
+    When thou pacifiest.
+  Virgin, pure in brightest sheen,
+    Mother sweet, supernal,--
+  Unto us Elected Queen,
+    Peer of Gods Eternal!
+      Light clouds are circling
+        Around her splendor,--
+      Penitent women
+        Of natures tender,
+      Her knees embracing,
+        Ether respiring,
+        Mercy requiring!
+      Thou, in immaculate ray,
+        Mercy not leavest,
+      And the lightly led astray,
+        Who trust thee, receivest!
+  In their weakness fallen at length,
+    Hard it is to save them:
+  Who can crush, by native strength,
+    Vices that enslave them?
+  Whose the foot that may not slip
+    On the surface slanting?
+  Whom befool not eye and lip,
+    Breath and voice enchanting?
+
+    _The_ Mater Gloriosa _soars into the space_
+
+  CHORUS OF WOMEN PENITENTS
+
+  To heights thou'rt speeding
+      Of endless Eden:
+    Receive our pleading,
+      Transcendent Maiden,
+      With mercy laden!
+
+  MAGNA PECCATRIX [_St. Luke_, vii. 36]
+
+  By the love before him kneeling,--
+    Him, thy Son, a Godlike vision;
+  By the tears like balsam stealing,
+    Spite of Pharisees' derision;
+  By the box, whose ointment precious
+    Shed its spice and odors cheery;
+  By the locks, whose softest meshes
+    Dried the holy feet and weary!--
+
+  MULIER SAMARITANA [_St. John_, iv.]
+
+  By that well, the ancient station
+    Whither Abram's flocks were driven;
+  By the jar, whose restoration
+    To the Savior's lips was given;
+  By the fountain pure and vernal,
+    Thence its present bounty spending,--
+  Overflowing, bright, eternal,
+    Watering the worlds unending!--
+
+  MARIA AEGYPTIACA [_Acta Sanctorum_]
+
+  By the place where the immortal
+    Body of the Lord hath lain;
+  By the arm which, from the portal,
+    Warning, thrust me back again;
+  By the forty years' repentance
+    In the lonely desert land;
+  By the blissful farewell sentence
+    Which I wrote upon the sand!--
+
+  THE THREE
+
+  Thou thy presence not deniest
+    Unto sinful women ever,--
+  Liftest them to win the highest
+    Gain of penitent endeavor,--
+  So, from this good soul withdraw not--
+    Who but once forgot, transgressing,
+  Who her loving error saw not--
+    Pardon adequate, and blessing!
+
+  UNA POENITENTIUM [_Formerly named Margaret, stealing closer_]
+
+            Incline, O Maiden,
+            With mercy laden,
+            In light unfading,
+  Thy gracious countenance upon my bliss!
+            My loved, my lover,
+            His trials over
+  In yonder world, returns to me in this!
+
+  BLESSED BOYS [_Approaching in hovering circles_]
+
+  With mighty limbs he towers
+    Already above us;
+  He, for this love of ours,
+    Will richlier love us.
+  Early were we removed,
+    Ere Life could reach us;
+  Yet he hath learned and proved,
+    And he will teach us.
+
+  THE PENITENT [_Formerly named Margaret_]
+
+  The spirit choir around him seeing,
+    New to himself, he scarce divines
+  His heritage of new-born Being,
+    When like the Holy Host he shines.
+  Behold, how he each band hath cloven
+    The earthly life had round him thrown,
+  And through his garb, of ether woven,
+    The early force of youth is shown!
+  Vouchsafe to me that I instruct him!
+    Still dazzles him the Day's new glare.
+
+  MATER GLORIOSA
+
+  Rise thou to higher spheres! Conduct him,
+    Who, feeling thee, shall follow there!
+
+  DOCTOR MARIANUS [_Prostrate, adoring_]
+
+  Penitents, look up, elate.
+    Where she beams salvation;
+  Gratefully to blessed fate
+    Grow, in re-creation!
+  Be our souls, as they have been,
+    Dedicate to thee!
+  Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen,
+    Goddess, gracious be!
+
+  CHORUS MYSTICUS
+
+  All things transitory
+    But as symbols are sent:
+  Earth's insufficiency
+    Here grows to Event:
+  The Indescribable,
+    Here it is done:
+  The Woman Soul leadeth us
+    Upward and on!
+
+
+
+MIGNON'S LOVE AND LONGING
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation
+
+
+Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a love which has
+been nursed in silence; of a faith grown strong in secret, and which at
+last comes forth in the hour of need and reveals itself to him who
+formerly has reckoned it of small account. The bud which had been closed
+so long and firmly was now ripe to burst its swathings, and Wilhelm's
+heart could never have been readier to welcome the impressions of
+affection.
+
+She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. "Master!" she cried,
+"if thou art unhappy, what will become of Mignon?" "Dear little
+creature," said he, taking her hands, "thou too art part of my
+anxieties. I must go hence." She looked at his eyes, glistening with
+restrained tears, and knelt down with vehemence before him. He kept her
+hands; she laid her head upon his knees, and remained quite still. He
+played with her hair, patted her, and spoke kindly to her. She continued
+motionless for a considerable time. At last he felt a sort of
+palpitating movement in her, which began very softly, and then by
+degrees, with increasing violence, diffused itself over all her frame.
+"What ails thee, Mignon?" cried he; "what ails thee?" She raised her
+little head, looked at him, and all at once laid her hand upon her
+heart, with the countenance of one repressing the utterance of pain. He
+raised her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed her towards him,
+and kissed her. She replied not by any pressure of the hand, by any
+motion whatever. She held firmly against her heart; and all at once gave
+a cry, which was accompanied by spasmodic movements of the body. She
+started up, and immediately fell down before him, as if broken in every
+joint. It was an excruciating moment! "My child!" cried he, raising her
+up and clasping her fast,--"my child, what ails thee?" The palpitations
+continued, spreading from the heart over all the lax and powerless
+limbs; she was merely hanging in his arms. All at once she again became
+quite stiff, like one enduring the sharpest corporeal agony; and soon
+with a new vehemence all her frame once more became alive, and she threw
+herself about his neck, like a bent spring that is closing; while in her
+soul, as it were, a strong rent took place, and at the same moment a
+stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes into his bosom. He held her
+fast. She wept, and no tongue can express the force of these tears. Her
+long hair had loosened, and was hanging down before her; it seemed as if
+her whole being was melting incessantly into a brook of tears. Her rigid
+limbs were again become relaxed; her inmost soul was pouring itself
+forth; in the wild confusion of the moment, Wilhelm was afraid she would
+dissolve in his arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp. He held
+her faster and faster. "My child!" cried he, "my child! thou art indeed
+mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou art mine! I will keep thee,
+I will never forsake thee!" Her tears continued flowing. At last she
+raised herself; a faint gladness shone upon her face. "My father!"
+cried she, "thou wilt not forsake me? Wilt be my father? I am thy
+child!"
+
+Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before the door; the old
+man brought his most affecting songs as an evening offering to our
+friend, who, holding his child ever faster in his arms, enjoyed the most
+pure and undescribable felicity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Know'st thou the land where citron-apples bloom,
+  And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,
+  A gentle wind from deep-blue heaven blows,
+  The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows?
+  Know'st thou it then?
+                          'Tis there! Tis there,
+  O my true loved one, thou with me must go!
+
+  Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall?
+  The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall,
+  And marble statues stand, and look each one:
+  What's this, poor child, to thee they've done?
+  Know'st thou it then?
+                          'Tis there! 'Tis there,
+  O my protector, thou with me must go!
+
+  "Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud?
+  The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud,
+  In caves lie coiled the dragon's ancient brood,
+  The crag leaps down, and over it the flood:
+  Know'st thou it then?
+                          'Tis there! 'Tis there
+  Our way runs: O my father, wilt thou go?"
+
+Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, Wilhelm did not
+find her, but was informed that she had gone out early with Melina, who
+had risen betimes to receive the wardrobe and other apparatus of his
+theatre.
+
+After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound of music before
+his door. At first he thought it was the harper come again to visit him;
+but he soon distinguished the tones of a cithern, and the voice which
+began to sing was Mignon's. Wilhelm opened the door; the child came in,
+and sang him the song we have just given above.
+
+The music and general expression of it pleased our friend extremely,
+though he could not understand all the words. He made her once more
+repeat the stanzas, and explain them; he wrote them down, and translated
+them into his native language. But the originality of its turns he could
+imitate only from afar: its childlike innocence of expression vanished
+from it in the process of reducing its broken phraseology to uniformity,
+and combining its disjointed parts. The charm of the tune, moreover, was
+entirely incomparable.
+
+She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if she wished
+to draw attention towards something wonderful, as if she had something
+weighty to communicate. In the third line, her tones became deeper and
+gloomier; the "Know'st thou it then?" was uttered with a show of mystery
+and eager circumspectness; in the "'Tis there! 'Tis there!" lay a
+boundless longing; and her "With me must go!" she modified at each
+repetition, so that now it appeared to entreat and implore, now to impel
+and persuade.
+
+On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent for a
+moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, "_Know'st_ thou the
+land?" "It must mean Italy," said Wilhelm: "where didst thou get the
+little song?" "Italy!" said Mignon, with an earnest air. "If thou go to
+Italy, take me along with thee; for I am too cold here." "Hast thou been
+there already, little dear?" said Wilhelm. But the child was silent, and
+nothing more could be got out of her.
+
+
+
+WILHELM MEISTER'S INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation
+
+
+"Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, "read one of
+Shakespeare's plays?"
+
+"No," replied Wilhelm: "since the time when they became more known in
+Germany, I have myself grown unacquainted with the theatre; and I know
+not whether I should now rejoice that an old taste and occupation of my
+youth, has been by chance renewed. In the mean time, all that I have
+heard of these plays has excited little wish to become acquainted with
+such extraordinary monsters, which appear to set probability and dignity
+alike at defiance."
+
+"I would advise you," said the other, "to make a trial, notwithstanding:
+it can do one no harm to look at what is extraordinary with one's own
+eyes. I will lend you a volume or two; and you cannot better spend your
+time than by casting everything aside, and retiring to the solitude of
+your old habitation, to look into the magic lantern of that unknown
+world. It is sinful of you to waste your hours in dressing out these
+apes to look more human, and teaching dogs to dance. One thing only I
+require,--you must not cavil at the form; the rest I can leave to your
+own good sense and feeling."
+
+The horses were standing at the door; and Jarno mounted with some other
+cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked after him with sadness. He
+would fain have spoken much with this man who though in a harsh,
+unfriendly way, gave him new ideas,--ideas that he had need of.
+
+Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development of his powers,
+capacities, and conceptions, gets into a perplexity from which a prudent
+friend might easily deliver him. He resembles a traveler, who, at but a
+short distance from the inn he is to rest at, falls into the water: were
+any one to catch him then and pull him to the bank, with one good
+wetting it were over; whereas, though he struggles out himself, it is
+often at the side where he tumbled in, and he has to make a wide and
+weary circuit before reaching his appointed object.
+
+Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went forward in the
+world differently from what he had supposed. He now viewed close at hand
+the solemn and imposing life of the great and distinguished, and
+wondered at the easy dignity which they contrived to give it. An army on
+its march, a princely hero at the head of it, such a multitude of
+co-operating warriors, such a multitude of crowding worshipers, exalted
+his imagination. In this mood he received the promised books; and ere
+long, as may be easily supposed, the stream of that mighty genius laid
+hold of him and led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he soon
+completely forgot and lost himself....
+
+Wilhelm had scarcely read one or two of Shakespeare's plays, till their
+effect on him became so strong that he could go no further. His whole
+soul was in commotion. He sought an opportunity to speak with Jarno; to
+whom, on meeting with him, he expressed his boundless gratitude for such
+delicious entertainment.
+
+"I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, "that you would not remain
+insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary and most admirable of
+all writers."
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed our friend: "I cannot recollect that any book, any man,
+any incident of my life, has produced such important effects on me, as
+the precious works to which by your kindness I have been directed. They
+seem as if they were performances of some celestial genius descending
+among men, to make them by the mildest instructions acquainted with
+themselves. They are no fictions! You would think, while reading them,
+you stood before the inclosed awful Books of Fate, while the whirlwind
+of most impassioned life was howling through the leaves, and tossing
+them fiercely to and fro. The strength and tenderness, the power and
+peacefulness of this man, have so astonished and transported me, that I
+long vehemently for the time when I shall have it in my power to read
+further."
+
+"Bravo!" said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeezing our friend's.
+"This is as it should be! And the consequences which I hope for will
+likewise surely follow."
+
+"I wish," said Wilhelm, "I could but disclose to you all that is going
+on within me even now. All the anticipations I have ever had regarding
+man and his destiny, which have accompanied me from youth upwards often
+unobserved by myself, I find developed and fulfilled in Shakespeare's
+writings. It seems as if he cleared up every one of our enigmas to us,
+though we cannot say, Here or there is the word of solution. His men
+appear like natural men, and yet they are not. These, the most
+mysterious and complex productions of creation, here act before us as if
+they were watches, whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal, which
+pointed out according to their use the course of the hours and minutes;
+while at the same time you could discern the combination of wheels and
+springs that turn them. The few glances I have cast over Shakespeare's
+world incite me, more than anything beside, to quicken my footsteps
+forward into the actual world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that
+is suspended over it; and at length, if I shall prosper, to draw a few
+cups from the great ocean of true nature, and to distribute them from
+off the stage among the thirsting people of my native land."
+
+
+
+WILHELM MEISTER'S ANALYSIS OF HAMLET
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+Seeing the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now hoped he might
+further have it in his power to converse with them on the poetic merit
+of the pieces which might come before them. "It is not enough," said he
+next day, when they were all again assembled, "for the actor merely to
+glance over a dramatic work, to judge of it by his first impression, and
+thus without investigation to declare his satisfaction or
+dissatisfaction with it. Such things may be allowed in a spectator,
+whose purpose it is rather to be entertained and moved than formally to
+criticize. But the actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give
+a reason for his praise or censure: and how shall he do this if he have
+not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views, and feelings of
+his author? A common error is, to form a judgment of a drama from a
+single part in it; and to look upon this part itself in an isolated
+point of view, not in its connection with the whole. I have noticed this
+within a few days so clearly in my own conduct, that I will give you the
+account as an example, if you please to hear me patiently.
+
+"You all know Shakespeare's incomparable 'Hamlet': our public reading of
+it at the Castle yielded every one of us the greatest satisfaction. On
+that occasion we proposed to act the piece; and I, not knowing what I
+undertook, engaged to play the Prince's part. This I conceived that I
+was studying, while I began to get by heart the strongest passages, the
+soliloquies, and those scenes in which force of soul, vehemence, and
+elevation of feeling have the freest scope; where the agitated heart is
+allowed to display itself with touching expressiveness.
+
+"I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the spirit of the
+character, while I endeavored as it were to take upon myself the load of
+deep melancholy under which my prototype was laboring, and in this humor
+to pursue him through the strange labyrinths of his caprices and his
+singularities. Thus learning, thus practicing, I doubted not but I
+should by-and-by become one person with my hero.
+
+"But the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it become for me to
+form any image of the whole, in its general bearings; till at last it
+seemed as if impossible. I next went through the entire piece, without
+interruption; but here too I found much that I could not away with. At
+one time the characters, at another time the manner of displaying them,
+seemed inconsistent; and I almost despaired of finding any general tint,
+in which I might present my whole part with all its shadings and
+variations. In such devious paths I toiled, and wandered long in vain;
+till at length a hope arose that I might reach my aim in quite a new
+way.
+
+"I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's character, as it had
+shown itself before his father's death: I endeavored to distinguish what
+in it was independent of this mournful event; independent of the
+terrible events that followed; and what most probably the young man
+would have been, had no such thing occurred.
+
+"Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had sprung up under the
+immediate influences of majesty; the idea of moral rectitude with that
+of princely elevation, the feeling of the good and dignified with the
+consciousness of high birth, had in him been unfolded simultaneously. He
+was a prince, by birth a prince; and he wished to reign, only that good
+men might be good without obstruction. Pleasing in form, polished by
+nature, courteous from the heart, he was meant to be the pattern of
+youth and the joy of the world.
+
+"Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was a still
+presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly accomplishments was
+not entirely his own; it needed to be quickened and inflamed by praise
+bestowed on others for excelling in them. Pure in sentiment, he knew the
+honorable-minded, and could prize the rest which an upright spirit
+tastes on the bosom of a friend. To a certain degree, he had learned to
+discern and value the good and the beautiful in arts and sciences; the
+mean, the vulgar was offensive to him: and if hatred could take root in
+his tender soul, it was only so far as to make him properly despise the
+false and changeful insects of a court, and play with them in easy
+scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in his conduct, neither
+pleased with idleness nor too violently eager for employment. The
+routine of a university he seemed to continue when at court. He
+possessed more mirth of humor than of heart; he was a good companion,
+pliant, courteous, discreet, and able to forget and forgive an injury,
+yet never able to unite himself with those who overstept the limits of
+the right, the good, and the becoming.
+
+"When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether I am yet on the
+proper track. I hope at least to bring forward passages that shall
+support my opinion in its main points."
+
+This delineation was received with warm approval; the company imagined
+they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of proceeding might now be very
+satisfactorily explained; they applauded this method of penetrating into
+the spirit of a writer. Each of them proposed to himself to take up some
+piece, and study it on these principles, and so unfold the author's
+meaning ....
+
+Loving Shakespeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead round the
+conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Expressing, as he
+entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new epoch which these exquisite
+productions must form in Germany, he ere long introduced his 'Hamlet,'
+who had busied him so much of late.
+
+Serlo declared that he would long ago have played the piece, had this
+been possible, and that he himself would willingly engage to act
+Polonius. He added with a smile, "An Ophelia too will certainly turn up,
+if we had but a Prince."
+
+Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at her
+brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein, becoming copious
+and didactic, expounding how he would have 'Hamlet' played. He
+circumstantially delivered to his hearers the opinions we before saw him
+busied with; taking all the trouble possible to make his notion of the
+matter acceptable, skeptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it. "Well
+then," said the latter finally, "suppose we grant you all this, what
+will you explain by it?"
+
+"Much, everything," said Wilhelm. "Conceive a prince such as I have
+painted him, and that his father suddenly dies. Ambition and the love of
+rule are not the passions that inspire him. As a king's son, he would
+have been contented; but now he is first constrained to consider the
+difference which separates a sovereign from a subject. The crown was not
+hereditary; yet a longer possession of it by his father would have
+strengthened the pretensions of an only son, and secured his hopes of
+the succession. In place of this, he now beholds himself excluded by his
+uncle, in spite of specious promises, most probably forever. He is now
+poor in goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene which from youth he
+had looked upon as his inheritance. His temper here assumes its first
+mournful tinge. He feels that now he is not more, that he is less, than
+a private nobleman; he offers himself as the servant of every one; he is
+not courteous and condescending, he is needy and degraded.
+
+"His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It is in vain that
+his uncle strives to cheer him, to present his situation in another
+point of view. The feeling of his nothingness will not leave him.
+
+"The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper, bowed still more.
+It was the marriage of his mother. The faithful tender son had yet a
+mother, when his father passed away. He hoped in the company of his
+surviving, noble-minded parent, to reverence the heroic form of the
+departed; but his mother too he loses, and it is something worse than
+death that robs him of her. The trustful image which a good child loves
+to form of its parents is gone. With the dead there is no help; on the
+living no hold. She also is a woman, and her name is Frailty, like that
+of all her sex.
+
+"Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphaned; and no
+happiness of life can repay what he has lost. Not reflective or
+sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow have become for him a heavy
+obligation. It is thus that we see him first enter on the scene. I do
+not think that I have mixed aught foreign with the piece, or overcharged
+a single feature of it."
+
+Serlo looked at his sister and said, "Did I give thee a false picture of
+our friend? He begins well; he has still many things to tell us, many to
+persuade us of." Wilhelm asseverated loudly that he meant not to
+persuade but to convince; he begged for another moment's patience.
+
+"Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, "this son of princes;
+conceive him vividly, bring his state before your eyes, and then observe
+him when he learns that his father's spirit walks; stand by him in the
+terrors of the night, when the venerable ghost itself appears before
+him. A horrid shudder passes over him; he speaks to the mysterious form;
+he sees it beckon him; he follows it, and hears. The fearful accusation
+of his uncle rings in his ears; the summons to revenge, and the piercing
+oft-repeated prayer, Remember me!
+
+"And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands before us? A
+young hero panting for vengeance? A prince by birth, rejoicing to be
+called to punish the usurper of his crown? No! trouble and astonishment
+take hold of the solitary young man; he grows bitter against smiling
+villains, swears that he will not forget the spirit, and concludes with
+the significant ejaculation:--
+
+  "'The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
+  That ever I was born to set it right!'
+
+"In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Hamlet's whole
+procedure. To me it is clear that Shakespeare meant, in the present
+case, to represent the effects of a great action laid upon a soul unfit
+for the performance of it. In this view the whole piece seems to me to
+be composed. There is an oak-tree planted in a costly jar, which should
+have borne only pleasant flowers in its bosom; the roots expand, the jar
+is shivered.
+
+"A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without the strength of
+nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burden which it cannot bear
+and must not cast away. All duties are holy for him; the present is too
+hard. Impossibilities have been required of him, not in themselves
+impossibilities, but such for him. He winds, and turns, and torments
+himself; he advances and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself
+in mind; at last does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts; yet
+still without recovering his peace of mind."
+
+Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing; at last she
+conducted Wilhelm to another room, and going to the window, and looking
+out at the starry sky she said to him, "You have still much to tell us
+about Hamlet; I will not hurry you; my brother must hear it as well as
+I; but let me beg to know your thoughts about Ophelia."
+
+"Of her there cannot much be said," he answered; "for a few master
+strokes complete her character. The whole being of Ophelia floats in
+sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the Prince, to whose hand she may
+aspire, flows so spontaneously, her tender heart obeys its impulses so
+unresistingly, that both father and brother are afraid; both give her
+warning harshly and directly. Decorum, like the thin lawn upon her
+bosom, cannot hide the soft, still movements of her heart; it on the
+contrary betrays them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes
+amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity should shake the
+tree, its fruit would fall."
+
+"And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself forsaken, cast away,
+despised; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed lover, and the
+highest changes to the lowest, and instead of the sweet cup of love he
+offers her the bitter cup of woe--"
+
+"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; "the whole structure of her being is
+loosened from its joinings; her father's death strikes fiercely against
+it; and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into fragments...."
+
+Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister; and looking
+in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, "So you are again at
+'Hamlet'? Very good! Many doubts have arisen in me, which seem not a
+little to impair the canonical aspect of the piece as you would have it
+viewed. The English themselves have admitted that its chief interest
+concludes with the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and
+scarcely uniting with the rest: and certainly about the end it seems to
+stand stock still."
+
+"It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some individuals of a nation
+which has so many masterpieces to feel proud of, may be led by prejudice
+and narrowness of mind to form false judgments; but this cannot hinder
+us from looking with our own eyes, and doing justice where we see it
+due. I am very far from censuring the plan of 'Hamlet': on the other
+hand, I believe there never was a grander one invented; nay, it is not
+invented, it is real."
+
+"How do you demonstrate that?" inquired Serlo.
+
+"I will not demonstrate anything," said Wilhelm; "I will merely show you
+what my own conceptions of it are."
+
+Aurelia rose up from her cushion, leaned upon her hand, and looked at
+Wilhelm; who, with the firmest assurance that he was in the right, went
+on as follows:--
+
+"It pleases us, it flatters us to see a hero acting on his own strength;
+loving and hating as his heart directs him; undertaking and completing;
+casting every obstacle aside; and at length attaining some great object
+which he aimed at. Poets and historians would willingly persuade us that
+so proud a lot may fall to man. In 'Hamlet' we are taught another
+lesson: the hero is without a plan, but the piece is full of plan. Here
+we have no villain punished on some self-conceived and rigidly
+accomplished scheme of vengeance: a horrid deed occurs; it rolls itself
+along with all its consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its
+course; the perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss which is
+made ready for him, yet he plunges in, at the very point by which he
+thinks he shall escape and happily complete his course.
+
+"For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief over innocence,
+as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over many that deserve them
+not; while frequently the author of the one or of the other is not
+punished or rewarded at all. Here in this play of ours, how strange! The
+Pit of Darkness sends its spirit and demands revenge; in vain! All
+circumstances tend one way, and hurry to revenge; in vain! Neither
+earthly nor infernal thing may bring about what is reserved for Fate
+alone. The hour of judgment comes: the wicked falls with the good; one
+race is mowed away, that another may spring up."
+
+After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo said: "You pay
+no great compliment to Providence, in thus exalting Shakespeare; and
+besides, it appears to me that for the honor of your poet, as others for
+the honor of Providence, you ascribe to him an object and a plan which
+he himself had never thought of."
+
+"Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have looked at Ophelia's
+part again; I am contented with it, and conceive that under certain
+circumstances I could play it. But tell me, should not the poet have
+furnished the insane maiden with another sort of songs? Could not one
+select some fragments out of melancholy ballads for this purpose? What
+have double meanings and lascivious insipidities to do in the mouth of
+such a noble-minded person?"
+
+"Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "even here I cannot yield you one iota. In
+these singularities, in this apparent impropriety, a deep sense is hid.
+Do we not understand from the very first what the mind of the good
+soft-hearted girl was busied with? Silently she lived within herself,
+yet she scarce concealed her wishes, her longing; the tones of desire
+were in secret ringing through her soul; and how often may she have
+attempted, like an unskillful nurse, to lull her senses to repose with
+songs which only kept them more awake? But at last, when her
+self-command is altogether gone, when the secrets of her heart are
+hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays her; and in the innocence of
+insanity she solaces herself, unmindful of king or queen, with the echo
+of her loose and well-beloved songs, 'Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's
+Day,' and 'By Gis and by Saint Charity.'
+
+"I am much mistaken," cried he, "if I have not now discovered how the
+whole is to be managed; nay, I am convinced that Shakespeare himself
+would have arranged it so, had not his mind been too exclusively
+directed to the ruling interest, and perhaps misled by the novels which
+furnished him with his materials."
+
+"Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of solemnity upon
+the sofa; "I will listen calmly, but judge with rigor."
+
+"I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm; "only hear me. In the
+composition of this play, after the most accurate investigation and the
+most mature reflection, I distinguish two classes of objects. The first
+are the grand internal relations of the persons and events, the powerful
+effects which arise from the characters and proceedings of the main
+figures: these, I hold, are individually excellent, and the order in
+which they are presented cannot be improved. No kind of interference
+must be suffered to destroy them, or even essentially to change their
+form. These are the things which stamp themselves deep into the soul;
+which all men long to see, which no one dares to meddle with.
+Accordingly, I understand, they have almost wholly been retained in all
+our German theatres.
+
+"But our countrymen have erred, in my opinion, with regard to the second
+class of objects which may be observed in this tragedy: I allude to the
+external relations of the persons, whereby they are brought from place
+to place, or combined in various ways by certain accidental incidents.
+These they have looked upon as very unimportant; have spoken of them
+only in passing, or left them out altogether. Now indeed it must be
+owned that these threads are slack and slender; yet they run through the
+entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise fall asunder,
+and does actually fall asunder when you cut them off, and imagine you
+have done enough and more if you have left the ends hanging.
+
+"Among these external relations I include the disturbances in Norway,
+the war with young Fortinbras, the embassy to his uncle, the settling of
+that feud, the march of young Fortinbras to Poland, and his coming back
+at the end; of the same sort are Horatio's return from Wittenberg,
+Hamlet's wish to go thither, the journey of Laertes to France, his
+return, the dispatch of Hamlet into England, his capture by pirates, the
+death of the two courtiers by the letter which they carried. All these
+circumstances and events would be very fit for expanding and lengthening
+a novel; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of the
+piece,--particularly as the hero had no plan,--and are in consequence
+entirely out of place."
+
+"For once in the right!" cried Serlo.
+
+"Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm; "perhaps you will not always
+think me right. These errors are like temporary props of an edifice;
+they must not be removed till we have built a firm wall in their stead.
+My project therefore is, not at all to change those first-mentioned
+grand situations, or at least as much as possible to spare them, both
+collectively and individually; but with respect to these external,
+single, dissipated, and dissipating motives, to cast them all at once
+away, and substitute a solitary one instead of them."
+
+"And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent posture.
+
+"It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, "only I employ it
+rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You shall hear my plan and
+try it.
+
+"After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately conquered,
+grow unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his son Horatio, an old
+school friend of Hamlet's, and distinguished above every other for his
+bravery and prudence, to Denmark, to press forward the equipment of the
+fleet, which under the new luxurious King proceeds but slowly. Horatio
+has known the former King, having fought in his battles, having even
+stood in favor with him; a circumstance by which the first ghost scene
+will be nothing injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audience, and
+sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the fleet will soon
+arrive, whilst Horatio is commissioned to accelerate the preparation of
+it; and the Queen, on the other hand, will not consent that Hamlet, as
+he wishes, should go to sea along with him."
+
+"Heaven be praised!" cried Serlo; "we shall now get rid of Wittenberg
+and the university, which was always a sorry piece of business. I think
+your idea extremely good: for except these two distant objects, Norway
+and the fleet, the spectator will not be required to _fancy_ anything:
+the rest he will _see_; the rest takes place before him; whereas his
+imagination, on the other plan, was hunted over all the world."
+
+"You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, "how I shall contrive to keep the
+other parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of his uncle's crime,
+Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his company, to secure the
+affections of the army, and return in war-like force. Hamlet also is
+becoming dangerous to the King and Queen; they find no readier method of
+deliverance than to send him in the fleet, with Rosencrantz and
+Guildenstern to be spies upon him: and as Laertes in the mean time comes
+from France, they determine that this youth, exasperated even to murder,
+shall go after him. Unfavorable winds detain the fleet; Hamlet returns:
+for his wandering through the church-yard perhaps some lucky motive may
+be thought of; his meeting with Laertes in Ophelia's grave is a grand
+moment, which we must not part with. After this, the King resolves that
+it is better to get quit of Hamlet on the spot: the festival of his
+departure, the pretended reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized;
+on which occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights with
+Hamlet. Without the four corpses I cannot end the piece; not one of them
+can possibly be left. The right of popular election now again comes in
+force, and Hamlet gives his dying voice for Horatio."
+
+"Quick! quick!" said Serlo; "sit down and work the piece; your plan has
+my entire approbation; only do not let your zeal for it evaporate." ...
+
+Wilhelm had already been for some time busied with translating Hamlet;
+making use, as he labored, of Wieland's spirited performance, by means
+of which he had first become acquainted with Shakespeare. What in
+Wieland's work had been omitted he replaced; and he had at length
+procured himself a complete version, at the very time when Serlo and he
+finally agreed about the way of treating it. He now began, according to
+his plan, to cut out and insert, to separate and unite, to alter and
+often to restore; for satisfied as he was with his own conception, it
+still appeared to him as if in executing it he were but spoiling the
+original.
+
+So soon as all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and the rest.
+They declared themselves exceedingly contented with it; Serlo in
+particular made many flattering observations.
+
+"You have felt very justly," said he, among other things, "that some
+external circumstances must accompany this piece; but that they must be
+simpler than those which the great poet has employed. What takes place
+without the theatre--what the spectator does not see, but must imagine
+for himself--is like a background, in front of which the acting figures
+move. Your large and simple prospect of the fleet and Norway will very
+much improve the piece; if this were altogether taken from it, we should
+have but a family scene remaining; and the great idea, that here a
+kingly house by internal crimes and incongruities goes down to ruin,
+would not be presented with its proper dignity. But if the former
+background were left standing, so manifold, so fluctuating and confused,
+it would hurt the impression of the figures."
+
+Wilhelm again took Shakespeare's part: alleging that he wrote for
+islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the distance, were
+accustomed to see little else than ships and voyages, the coast of
+France and privateers; and thus what perplexed and distracted others was
+to them quite natural.
+
+Serlo assented; and both of them were of opinion that as the piece was
+now to be produced upon the German stage, this more serious and simple
+background was the best adapted for the German mind.
+
+The parts had been distributed before: Serlo undertook Polonius; Aurelia
+undertook Ophelia; Laertes was already designated by his name; a young,
+thick-set, jolly new-comer was to be Horatio; the King and the Ghost
+alone occasioned some perplexity. For both of these was no one but Old
+Boisterous remaining. Serlo proposed to make the Pedant King; but
+against this our friend protested in the strongest terms. They could
+resolve on nothing.
+
+Wilhelm also had allowed both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to continue
+in his piece. "Why not compress them into one?" said Serlo. "This
+abbreviation will not cost you much."
+
+"Heaven keep me from such curtailments!" answered Wilhelm; "they destroy
+at once the sense and the effect. What these two persons are and do it
+is impossible to represent by one. In such small matters we discover
+Shakespeare's greatness. These soft approaches, this smirking and
+bowing, this assenting, wheedling, flattering, this whisking agility,
+this wagging of the tail, this allness and emptiness, this legal
+knavery, this ineptitude and insipidity,--how can they be expressed by a
+single man? There ought to be at least a dozen of these people if they
+could be had, for it is only in society that they are anything; they
+are society itself; and Shakespeare showed no little wisdom and
+discernment in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need them as a
+couple that may be contrasted with the single, noble, excellent
+Horatio."
+
+
+
+THE INDENTURE
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient. To
+act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our thought is
+troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful; the threshold is the place of
+expectation. The boy stands astonished, his impressions guide him; he
+learns sportfully, seriousness comes on him by surprise. Imitation is
+born with us; what should be imitated is not easy to discover. The
+excellent is rarely found, more rarely valued. The height charms us, the
+steps to it do not; with the summit in our eye, we love to walk along
+the plain. It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist needs
+it all. Who knows it half, speaks much and is always wrong; who knows it
+wholly, inclines to act and speaks seldom or late. The former have no
+secrets and no force; the instruction they can give is like baked bread,
+savory and satisfying for a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and
+seed corn ought not to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the
+best. The best is not to be explained by words. The spirit in which we
+act is the highest matter. Action can be understood and again
+represented by the spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing while he
+acts aright; but of what is wrong we are always conscious. Whoever works
+with symbols only is a pedant, a hypocrite, or a bungler. There are many
+such, and they like to be together. Their babbling detains the scholar;
+their obstinate mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which
+the true artist gives us opens the mind; for where words fail him, deeds
+speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the unknown, and
+approaches more and more to being a master.
+
+
+
+THE HARPER'S SONGS
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+  "What notes are those without the wall,
+    Across the portal sounding?
+  Let's have the music in our hall,
+    Back from its roof rebounding."
+  So spoke the king: the henchman flies;
+  His answer heard, the monarch cries,
+    "Bring in that ancient minstrel."
+
+  "Hail, gracious king, each noble knight!
+    Each lovely dame, I greet you!
+  What glittering stars salute my sight!
+    What heart unmoved may meet you!
+  Such lordly pomp is not for me,
+  Far other scenes my eyes must see:
+    Yet deign to list my harping."
+
+  The singer turns him to his art,
+    A thrilling strain he raises;
+  Each warrior hears with glowing heart
+    And on his loved one gazes.
+  The king, who liked his playing well,
+  Commands, for such a kindly spell,
+    A golden chain be given him.
+
+  "The golden chain give not to me:
+    Thy boldest knight may wear it,
+  Who 'cross the battle's purple sea
+    On lion breast may bear it;
+  Or let it be thy chancellor's prize,
+  Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,--
+    Its yellow glance will please him.
+
+  "I sing but as the linnet sings,
+    That on the green bough dwelleth;
+  A rich reward his music brings,
+    As from his throat it swelleth:
+  Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine
+  One sparkling draught of purest wine
+    To drink it here before you."
+
+  He viewed the wine, he quaffed it up:
+    "O draught of sweetest savor!
+  O happy house, where such a cup
+    Is thought a little favor!
+  If well you fare, remember me,
+  And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,
+    As now for this I thank you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Who never ate his bread in sorrow,
+    Who never spent the darksome hours
+  Weeping and watching for the morrow,--
+    He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.
+
+  To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us,
+    To guilt ye let us heedless go,
+  Then leave repentance fierce to wring us;
+    A moment's guilt, an age of woe!
+
+
+
+MIGNON'S SONG
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+  Such let me seem, till such I be;
+    Take not my snow-white dress away!
+  Soon from this dusk of earth I flee,
+    Up to the glittering lands of day.
+
+  There first a little space I rest,
+    Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind;
+  In earthly robes no longer drest,
+    This band, this girdle left behind.
+
+  And those calm shining sons of morn,
+    They ask not who is maid or boy;
+  No robes, no garments there are worn,
+    Our body pure from sin's alloy.
+
+  Through little life not much I toiled,
+    Yet anguish long this heart has wrung,
+  Untimely woe my blossoms spoiled:
+    Make me again forever young!
+
+
+
+PHILINA'S SONG
+
+From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
+
+
+  Sing me not with such emotion
+    How the night so lonesome is;
+  Pretty maids, I've got a notion
+    It is the reverse of this.
+
+  For as wife and man are plighted,
+    And the better half the wife,
+  So is night to day united,--
+    Night's the better half of life.
+
+  Can you joy in bustling daytime,--
+    Day, when none can get his will?
+  It is good for work, for haytime;
+    For much other it is ill.
+
+  But when in the nightly glooming,
+    Social lamp on table glows,
+  Face for faces dear illuming,
+    And such jest and joyance goes;
+
+  When the fiery pert young fellow,
+    Wont by day to run or ride,
+  Whispering now some tale would tell O,--
+    All so gentle by your side;
+
+  When the nightingale to lovers
+    Lovingly her songlet sings,
+  Which for exiles and sad rovers
+    Like mere woe and wailing rings;
+
+  With a heart how lightsome-feeling
+    Do ye count the kindly clock,
+  Which, twelve times deliberate pealing,
+    Tells you none to-night shall knock!
+
+  Therefore, on all fit occasions,
+    Mark it, maidens, what I sing:
+  Every day its own vexations,
+    And the night its joys will bring.
+
+
+
+PROMETHEUS
+
+
+          Blacken thy heavens, Jove,
+            With thunder-clouds,
+          And exercise thee, like a boy
+            Who thistles crops,
+        With smiting oaks and mountain-tops:
+          Yet must leave me standing
+            My own firm earth;
+  Must leave my cottage, which thou didst not build,
+            And my warm hearth,
+            Whose cheerful glow
+            Thou enviest me.
+
+          I know naught more pitiful
+          Under the sun, than you, gods!
+            Ye nourish scantily
+            With altar taxes
+          And with cold lip-service,
+            This your majesty;--
+            Would perish, were not
+            Children and beggars
+            Credulous fools.
+
+            When I was a child,
+        And knew not whence or whither,
+        I would turn my 'wildered eye
+        To the sun, as if up yonder were
+        An ear to hear to my complaining--A
+            heart, like mine,
+      On the oppressed to feel compassion.
+
+            Who helped me
+      When I braved the Titans' insolence?
+        Who rescued me from death,
+            From slavery?
+      Hast thou not all thyself accomplished,
+            Holy-glowing heart?
+          And, glowing, young, and good,
+          Most ignorantly thanked
+          The slumberer above there?
+
+          I honor thee! For what?
+          Hast thou the miseries lightened
+            Of the down-trodden?
+      Hast thou the tears ever banished
+            From the afflicted?
+      Have I not to manhood been molded
+            By omnipotent Time,
+          And by Fate everlasting,
+            My lords and thine?
+
+            Dreamedst thou ever
+      I should grow weary of living,
+            And fly to the desert,
+            Since not all our
+            Pretty dream buds ripen?
+
+            Here sit I, fashion men
+            In mine own image,--
+            A race to be like me,
+            To weep and to suffer,
+      To be happy and enjoy themselves,
+        To be careless of _thee_ too,
+                As I!
+
+                                      Translation of John S. Dwight.
+
+
+
+WANDERER'S NIGHT SONGS
+
+
+  Thou that from the heavens art,
+    Every pain and sorrow stillest,
+  And the doubly wretched heart
+    Doubly with refreshment fillest,
+  I am weary with contending!
+      Why this rapture and unrest?
+            Peace descending,
+      Come, ah come into my breast!
+
+          O'er all the hill-tops
+            Is quiet now,
+          In all the tree-tops
+            Hearest thou
+          Hardly a breath;
+  The birds are asleep in the trees:
+          Wait; soon like these
+            Thou too shalt rest.
+
+                Longfellow's Translation. Reprinted by permission of
+                Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers, Boston
+
+
+
+THE ELFIN-KING
+
+
+  Who rides so late through the midnight blast?
+  'Tis a father spurs on with his child full fast;
+  He gathers the boy well into his arm,
+  He clasps him close and he keeps him warm.
+
+  "My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?"--
+  "Father, dost thou not see the elfin-king?
+  The elfin-king with his crown and train!"--
+  "My son, 'tis a streak of the misty rain!"
+
+  _"Come hither, thou darling, come, go with me!
+  Fine games I know that I'll play with thee;
+  Flowers many and bright do my kingdoms hold,
+  My mother has many a robe of gold."_
+
+  "O father, dear father, and dost thou not hear
+  What the elfin-king whispers so low in mine ear?"--
+  "Calm, calm thee, my boy, it is only the breeze,
+  As it rustles the withered leaves under the trees."
+
+  _"Wilt thou go, bonny boy, wilt thou go with me?
+  My daughters shall wait on thee daintily;
+  My daughters around thee in dance shall sweep,
+  And rock thee and kiss thee and sing thee to sleep."_
+
+  "O father, dear father, and dost thou not mark
+  The elf-king's daughters move by in the dark?"--
+  "I see it, my child; but it is not they,
+  'Tis the old willow nodding its head so gray."
+
+  _"I love thee! thy beauty it charms me so;
+  And I'll take thee by force, if thou wilt not go!"_
+  "O father, dear father, he's grasping me,--
+  My heart is as cold as cold can be!"
+
+  The father rides swiftly,--with terror he gasps,--
+  The sobbing child in his arms he clasps;
+  He reaches the castle with spurring and dread;
+  But alack! in his arms the child lay dead!
+
+                                   Translation of Martin and Aytoun.
+
+
+
+FROM 'THE WANDERER'S STORM SONG'
+
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+          Neither blinding rain nor storm
+          Breathes upon his heart a chill.
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+            To the lowering clouds,
+            To the beating hail,
+            He will sing cheerly,
+            As the lark there,
+            Thou that soarest.
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+        Him thou'lt lift o'er miry places
+            On thy flaming pinions:
+            He will traverse
+            As on feet of flowers
+          Slime of Deucalion's deluge;
+          Slaying Python, strong, great,
+            Pythius Apollo!
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+  Thou wilt spread thy downy wings beneath him,
+            When he sleeps upon the crags;
+  Thou wilt cover him with guardian pinions
+            In the midnight forest depths.
+
+        Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,
+        Thou wilt in whirling snow-storm
+            Warmly wrap him round;
+            To the warmth fly the Muses,
+            To the warmth fly the Graces.
+
+            Around me float, ye Muses,
+              And float, ye Graces!
+            This is water, this is earth
+          And the son of water and of earth,
+                Over whom I wander
+                    Like the gods.
+
+          You are pure like the heart of water,
+          You are pure like the core of earth;
+          You float around me, and I float
+                Over water, over earth,
+                    Like the gods.
+
+                               Translation of Charles Harvey Genung.
+
+
+
+THE GODLIKE
+
+
+  Noble be Man,
+  Helpful and good!
+  For that alone
+  Doth distinguish him
+  From all the beings
+  Which we know.
+
+  Hail to the Unknown, the
+  Higher Beings
+  Felt within us!
+  His pattern teach us
+  Faith in them!
+
+  For unfeeling
+  Is Nature:
+  Still shineth the sun
+  Over good and evil:
+  And to the sinner
+  Smile, as to the best,
+  The moon and the stars.
+
+  Wind and waters,
+  Thunder and hailstones,
+  Rustle on their way,
+  Smiting down as
+  They dash along,
+  One for another.
+
+  Just so does Fate
+  Grope round in the crowd,
+  Seize now the innocent,
+  Curly-haired boy,
+  Now on the old, bald
+  Crown of the villain.
+
+  By great adamantine
+  Laws everlasting,
+  Here we must all our
+  Round of existence
+  Faithfully finish.
+
+  There can none but Man
+  Perform the Impossible.
+  He understandeth,
+  Chooseth, and judgeth;
+  He can impart to the
+  Moment duration.
+
+  He alone may
+  The Good reward,
+  The Guilty punish,
+  Mend and deliver;
+  All the wayward, anomalous
+  Bind in the Useful.
+
+  And the Immortals--
+  Them we reverence,
+  As if they were men, and
+  Did, on a grand scale,
+  What the best man in little
+  Does, or fain would do.
+
+  Let noble Man
+  Be helpful and good!
+  Ever creating
+  The Right and the Useful--
+  Type of those loftier
+  Beings of whom the heart whispers!
+
+                                      Translation of John S. Dwight.
+
+
+
+SOLITUDE
+
+
+  O ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,
+    Grant unto each whatsoever he may in silence desire!
+  Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,
+    And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves.
+  For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals,
+    Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.
+
+                                       Translation of E. A. Bowring.
+
+
+
+ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+
+  For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,
+      So, brethren, sing Ergo bibamus!
+  Though talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear:
+      Remember then, Ergo bibamus!
+  In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word;
+  With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirred,
+  And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
+      A glorious Ergo bibamus!
+
+  I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,
+      And bethought me of Ergo bibamus;
+  So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,
+      While I helped myself, thinking, Bibamus!
+  And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,
+  Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,
+  Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,
+      In the comforting Ergo bibamus!
+
+  I am called by my fate far away from each friend;
+      Ye loved ones, then, Ergo bibamus!
+  With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,
+      So double our Ergo bibamus!
+  Whatever to his treasure the niggard may add,
+  Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,
+  For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,
+      So, brethren, sing: Ergo bibamus!
+
+  And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?
+      I thought but of Ergo bibamus!
+  'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
+      So again and again sing Bibamus!
+  For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,
+  Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,
+  And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
+      While we thunder our Ergo bibamus.
+
+                                       Translation of E. A. Bowring.
+
+
+
+ALEXIS AND DORA
+
+
+  Farther and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel
+    Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-covered flood!
+  Long is the track plowed up by the keel where dolphins are sporting,
+    Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit.
+  All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness
+    Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs.
+  Forward presses the heart of each seaman, like colors and streamers;
+    Backward one only is seen, mournfully fixed near the mast,
+  While on the blue-tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he
+          gazeth,
+    And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs.
+  Vanished from thee, too, O Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee
+    Of thine Alexis, thy friend,--ah, thy betrothed as well!
+  Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain.  Our hearts are still
+          throbbing,
+    Though for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more.
+  O thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest
+    Every day which had else coldly from memory fled.
+  'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended
+    Life such as deities grant, though thou perceivedst it not.
+  Phoebus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory:
+    Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me.
+  Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there in the silence
+    Strive to recover the time when she appeared with each day.
+  Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it?
+    Worked not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine?
+  Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma
+    Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words;
+  Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful,
+    Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense.
+  When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladdened,
+    And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight.
+  Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, O Amor,
+    Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,--wherefore remove it so
+          late?
+  Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favoring breezes,
+    Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea.
+  Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future!
+    Ye all vanish, and naught, saving the moment, remains.
+  Yes! it remains,--my joy still remains! I hold thee, my Dora,
+    And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclosed.
+  Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple,
+    While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side.
+  Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market,
+    Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head.
+  Then was revealed thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous,
+    Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen.
+  Oft have I feared that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling,
+    Yet it ever remained firm on the circular cloth.
+  Thus, fair neighbor, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee,
+    As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon;
+  Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom
+    Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own.
+
+  Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only
+    Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne'er crossed.
+  Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to Heaven,
+    Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night.
+  All were now in movement: a boy to the house of my father
+    Ran at full speed and exclaimed, "Hasten thee quick to the strand!
+  Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is fluttering,
+    While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand;
+  Come, Alexis, oh come!"--My worthy stout-hearted father
+    Pressed, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-locked head,
+  While my mother carefully reached me a newly made bundle;
+    "Happy mayst thou return!" cried they--"both happy and rich!"
+  Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle,
+    Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by,
+  At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then, "Alexis!
+    Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be?
+  Foreign coasts wilt thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase,
+    Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town;
+  Bring me also, I pray thee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee,
+    Oft have I wished to possess some such a trinket as that."
+  There I remained, and asked, as merchants are wont, with precision
+    After the form and the weight which thy commission should have.
+  Modest indeed was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing
+    On thy neck, which deserved ornaments worn but by queens.
+  Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest:--
+    "Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend!
+  Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean
+    Beareth no fruit, and in truth, 'tis not produced by each land."
+  So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches,
+    And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld.
+  Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling
+    Into thy hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch.
+  Presently didst thou reach the arbor; there lay there a basket,
+    Sweet blooming myrtle-trees waved, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads.
+  Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence:
+    First the orange, which heavy as though 'twere of gold,
+  Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigured,
+    And with myrtle, the gift soon was both covered and graced.
+  But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,
+    And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film.
+  Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining
+    Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kissed I thy neck.
+  On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling,
+    Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting a rapturous pair.
+  Amor's hands I felt; he pressed us together with ardor,
+    And from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears
+  Streamed from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were
+          weeping,
+    And 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seemed to die.
+  Louder and louder they called from the strand; my feet would no longer
+    Bear my weight, and I cried:--"Dora! and art thou not mine?"
+  "Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were
+          shedding
+    Seemed to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god.
+  Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me
+    Suddenly peeped through the door.  How he the basket snatched up!
+  How he urged me away! how pressed I thy hand! Dost thou ask me
+    How the vessel I reached? Drunken I seemed, well I know,
+  Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me;
+    And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscured.
+  "Thine forever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses
+    With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne
+  Stood his daughter, the goddess of Love; the Graces were standing
+    Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine!
+  Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favoring zephyr!
+    Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!
+  Bring me unto the foreign harbor, so that the goldsmith
+    May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!
+  Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, O my Dora!
+    Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwined.
+  Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,
+    Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand.
+  There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely
+    Be to the jacinth opposed, seeming its foil; while the gold
+  Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.
+    Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betrothed!
+  Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me
+    Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form.
+  I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee;
+    Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee.
+  Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;
+    With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight:
+  Fine and woolen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,
+    Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest;
+  Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest
+    Me, and thyself, and perchance even a third with it too.
+  Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly immortals,
+    Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!
+  Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments,
+    When in their stead, Care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm.
+  Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their barking,
+    Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair,
+  As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one
+    Far away: of a truth, open the garden door stands!
+  And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling,
+    And for him also the fig strengthening honey doth yield!
+  Doth she entice him as well to the arbor? He follows? Oh, make me
+    Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind!
+  Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly
+    Yield, to another erelong, doubtless, will turn herself round.
+  Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!
+    Thunder more fearfully! Strike!--Stay--thy fierce lightnings
+          withhold!
+  Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight
+    Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck!
+  Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows
+    All these wares, and let _me_ be to the dolphins a prey!--
+  Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture
+    How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss.
+  Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;
+    Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.
+
+                                       Translation of E. A. Bowring.
+
+
+
+MAXIMS AND REFLECTIONS
+
+From 'Maxims and Reflections of Goethe.'
+
+Translation of Bailey Saunders. Copyright 1892, by Macmillan & Co.
+
+
+It is not always needful for truth to take a definite shape: it is
+enough if it hovers about us like a spirit and produces harmony; if it
+is wafted through the air like the sound of a bell, grave and kindly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I must hold it for the greatest calamity of our time, which lets nothing
+come to maturity, that one moment is consumed by the next, and the day
+spent in the day; so that a man is always living from hand to mouth,
+without having anything to show for it. Have we not already newspapers
+for every hour of the day? A good head could assuredly intercalate one
+or other of them. They publish abroad everything that every one does, or
+is busy with or meditating; nay, his very designs are thereby dragged
+into publicity. No one can rejoice or be sorry, but as a pastime for
+others; and so it goes on from house to house, from city to city, from
+kingdom to kingdom, and at last from one hemisphere to the other,--all
+in post-haste.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During a prolonged study of the lives of various men both great and
+small, I came upon this thought: In the web of the world the one may
+well be regarded as the warp, the other as the woof. It is the little
+men, after all, who give breadth to the web, and the great men firmness
+and solidity; perhaps also the addition of some sort of pattern. But the
+scissors of the Fates determine its length, and to that all the rest
+must join in submitting itself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is nothing more odious than the majority: it consists of a few
+powerful men to lead the way; of accommodating rascals and submissive
+weaklings; and of a mass of men who trot after them without in the least
+knowing their own mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Translators are like busy match-makers: they sing the praises of some
+half-veiled beauty, and extol her charms, and arouse an irresistible
+longing for the original.
+
+
+
+NATURE
+
+
+Nature! We are surrounded by her and locked in her clasp: powerless to
+leave her, and powerless to come closer to her. Unasked and unwarned she
+takes us up into the whirl of her dance, and hurries on with us till we
+are weary and fall from her arms.
+
+There is constant life in her, motion and development; and yet she
+remains where she was. She is eternally changing, nor for a moment does
+she stand still. Of rest she knows nothing, and to all stagnation she
+has affixed her curse. She is steadfast; her step is measured, her
+exceptions rare, her laws immutable.
+
+She loves herself, and clings eternally to herself with eyes and hearts
+innumerable. She has divided herself that she may be her own delight.
+She is ever making new creatures spring up to delight in her, and
+imparts herself insatiably.
+
+She rejoices in illusion. If a man destroys this in himself and others,
+she punishes him like the hardest tyrant. If he follows her in
+confidence, she presses him to her heart as it were her child.
+
+She spurts forth her creatures out of nothing, and tells them not whence
+they come and whither they go. They have only to go their way: she knows
+the path.
+
+Her crown is Love. Only through Love can we come near her. She puts
+gulfs between all things, and all things strive to be interfused. She
+isolates everything, that she may draw everything together. With a few
+draughts from the cup of Love she repays for a life full of trouble.
+
+She is all things. She rewards herself and punishes herself, and in
+herself rejoices and is distressed. She is rough and gentle, loving and
+terrible, powerless and almighty. In her everything is always present.
+Past or Future she knows not. The Present is her Eternity. She is kind.
+I praise her with all her works. She is wise and still. No one can force
+her to explain herself, or frighten her into a gift that she does not
+give willingly. She is crafty, but for a good end; and it is best not to
+notice her cunning.
+
+
+
+
+NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL
+
+(1809-1852)
+
+BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD
+
+[Illustration: NIKOLAI GOGOL]
+
+
+Gogol has been called the "father of modern Russian realism," and he has
+been credited with the creation of all the types which we meet in the
+great novelists who followed him. This is in great measure true,
+especially so far as the male characters are concerned. The germs at
+least, if not the condensed characterization in full, are recognizable
+in Gogol's famous novel 'Dead Souls,' his Little-Russian stories 'Tales
+from a Farm-House near Dikanka' and 'Mirgorod,' and his comedy 'The
+Inspector,' which still holds the stage.
+
+It was precisely because of his genius in seizing the national types
+that the poet Pushkin, one of Gogol's earliest and warmest admirers,
+gave to him the plans of 'Dead Souls' and 'The Inspector,' which he had
+intended to make use of himself. That he became the "father of Russian
+realism" was due not only to his own genius, but to the epoch in which
+he lived, though he solved the problem for himself quite independently
+of the Continental literatures which were undergoing the same process of
+transformation from romanticism to realism. For, nearly a hundred years
+before Gogol and his foreign contemporaries of the forties--the
+pioneers, in their respective countries, of the new literature--won the
+public, Europe had been living a sort of modern epic. In imitation of
+the ancient epics, writers portrayed heroes of gigantic powers in every
+direction, and set them in a framework of exceptional crises which
+aroused their powerful emotions in the cause of right, or their
+superhuman conflict with masterful persons or overwhelming woes. But the
+daily experience of those who suffered from the manifold miseries of
+battle and invasion in this modern epic epoch, made it impossible for
+them to disregard longer the claim on their sympathies of the common
+things and people of their world, though these can very easily be
+ignored when one reads the ancient epics. Thus did realism have its dawn
+in many lands when the era of peace gave men time to define their
+position, and when pseudo-classicism had at last palled on their taste,
+which had begun to recognize its coldness and inherent falsity.
+
+Naturally, in this new quest of Truth, romanticism and realism were
+mingled at first. This was the case with Gogol-Yanovsky, to give him his
+full name. But he soon struck out in the right path. He was born and
+reared in Little Russia, at Sorotchinsky, government of Poltava. He was
+separated by only two generations from the epoch of the Zaporozhian
+Kazak army, whose life he has recorded in his famous historical novel
+'Taras Bulba,' his grandfather having been regimental scribe of the
+Kazaks, an office of honor. The spirit of the Zaporozhian Kazaks still
+lingered over the land, which was overflowing with legends, and with
+fervent, childlike piety of the superstitious order. At least one half
+of the Little-Russian stories which made Gogol's fame he owes to his
+grandfather, who appears as Rudiy Panko the Bee-Farmer, in the 'Tales
+from a Farm-House near Dikanka.' His father, who represented the modern
+spirit, was an inimitable narrator of comic stories, and the talents of
+this father and grandfather rendered their house the social centre of a
+very wide neighborhood.
+
+At school Gogol did not distinguish himself in his studies, but wrote a
+great deal, all of an imitative character, and got up school plays in
+emulation of those which he had seen at his own home. His lack of
+scholarship made it impossible for him to pursue the learned career of
+professor of history, on which he embarked after he had with labor
+obtained, and shortly renounced, the career of copying-clerk in St.
+Petersburg. His vast but dimly defined ambition to accomplish great
+things for his fatherland in some mysterious way, and fame for himself,
+equally suffered shipwreck to his mind; though if we consider the part
+which the realistic literature he founded has played on the world's
+stage, we may count his apparent defeat a solid victory. His brief
+career as professor of history at the university was brought about by
+his ambition, and through the influence of the literary men whose
+friendship he had won by his first 'Little-Russian Tales.' They
+recognized his genius, and at last he himself recognized that the new
+style of writing which he had created was his vocation, and devoted
+himself wholly to literature. At the close of 1831 the first volume of
+'Tales from a Farm-House' appeared, and had an immense success. The
+second volume, 'Mirgorod, followed, with equal success. It contained a
+new element: the merriment of the first volume had been pure, unmixed;
+in the second volume he had developed not only the realism but that
+special trait of his genius, "laughter piercing through a mist of
+tears," of which 'Old-Fashioned Gentry' and 'How the Two Ivans
+Quarreled' offer celebrated examples. But success always flew to
+Gogol's head: he immediately began to despise these products of his true
+vocation, and to plan grandiose projects far beyond his powers of
+education and entirely outside the range of his talent. Now, for
+instance, he undertook a colossal work in nine volumes on the history of
+the Middle Ages. Happily, he abandoned that, after his studies of
+Little-Russian history incidental thereto had resulted in his epic of
+the highest art, 'Taras Bulba.'
+
+The first outcome of his recognition that literary work was his moral
+duty, not a mere pastime, was his great play 'The Inspector.' It was
+produced in April, 1836. The authorities steadfastly opposed its
+production; but the Emperor Nicholas I. heard of it, read it, ordered it
+produced, and upheld Gogol in enthusiastic delight. Officials,
+merchants, police, literary people, everybody, attacked the author. They
+had laughed at his pathos; now they raged at his comedy, refused to
+recognize their own portraits, and still tried to have the play
+prohibited. Gogol's health and spirits were profoundly affected by this
+unexpected enmity. He fled abroad, and returned to Russia thereafter
+only at intervals for brief visits, and chiefly to Moscow, where most of
+his faithful friends lived. He traveled much, but spent most of his time
+in Rome, where his lavish charities kept him always poor, even after the
+complete success of 'The Inspector' and of the first part of 'Dead
+Souls' would have enabled him to exist in comfort. He was accustomed to
+say that he could only see Russia clearly when he was far from her, and
+in a measure he proved this by his inimitable first volume of 'Dead
+Souls.' Herein he justified Pushkin's expectations in giving him that
+subject which would enable him to paint, in types, the classes and
+localities of his fatherland. But this long residence in Rome was fatal
+to his mind and health, and eventually extinguished the last sparks of
+genius. The Russian mind is peculiarly inclined to mysticism, and
+Russian writers of eminence seem to be even more susceptible in that
+direction than ordinary men. Of the noted writers in this century,
+Pushkin and Lermontoff had leaned decidedly in that direction towards
+the end of their careers, brief as their lives were. Gogol was their
+intimate friend in Russia, and after he went abroad he was the intimate
+friend of the aged poet Zhukovsky, who became a mystic in his declining
+years.
+
+Even in his school days Gogol had shown, in his letters to his mother, a
+marked tendency to religious exaltation. Now, under the combined
+pressure of his personal inclinations, friendships, and the clerical
+atmosphere of Rome, he developed into a mystic and ascetic of the most
+pronounced type. In this frame of mind, he looked upon all his earlier
+writings as sins which must be atoned for; and yet his immense
+self-esteem was so flattered by the tremendous success of 'The
+Inspector' and of the first part of 'Dead Souls,' that he began to
+regard himself as a kind of divinely commissioned prophet, whose duty it
+was to exhort his fellow-men. The extract from these hortatory letters
+to his friends which he published convinced his countrymen that nothing
+more was to be expected from him. The failure of this volume only helped
+to plunge him into deeper depths of self-torture. In the few remaining
+lucid moments of his genius he worked at the second part of 'Dead
+Souls,' but destroyed what he had written in the moments of ecstatic
+remorse which followed. Thus the greatest work of his mature genius
+remains uncompleted. In 1848 he made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and
+returned through Odessa to Moscow, where he lived until his death,
+growing constantly more mystical, more ascetic. Sleepless nights spent
+in prayer, fasting to the extent of trying to nourish himself (as it is
+affirmed that practiced ascetics successfully can) for a week on one of
+the tiny double loaves which are used in the Holy Communion, completed
+the ravages of his long-endured maladies.
+
+It was for publishing in a Moscow paper an enthusiastic obituary of the
+dead genius, which he had been forbidden to publish in St. Petersburg,
+that Turgenieff was sent into residence on his estate, and enriched the
+world with the first work of the rising genius, 'The Diary of a
+Sportsman.' Acuteness of observation; natural, infectious, genuine
+humor; vivid realism; and an inimitable power of depicting national
+types, are Gogol's distinguishing characteristics: and these in varying
+degrees are precisely the ingredients which have entered into the works
+of his successors and rendered Russian literature famous as a school.
+
+In reviewing Gogol's work, we may set aside with but cursory mention his
+youthful idyl, written while still in the gymnasium, published
+anonymously and overwhelmed with ridicule, 'Hans Kuchel-garten'; his
+'Arabesques,' which are useful chiefly as a contribution to the study of
+the man and his opinions, not as permanent additions to literature; his
+'Extracts from Correspondence with Friends,' which belong to the
+sermonizing, clouded period of his life's close; and the divers
+'Fragments,' both of prose and dramatic writing, all of which are
+conscientiously included in the complete editions of his writings.
+
+The only complete play which he wrote except 'The Inspector' is the
+comedy 'Marriage,' which is still acted, though very seldom. It is full
+of naturalness and his own peculiar humor, but its subject does not
+appeal to the universal public of all lands as nearly as does the plan
+of 'The Inspector.' The plot, in brief, is founded on a young girl's
+meditations on marriage, and her actions which lead up to and follow
+those meditations. The Heroine, desirous of marrying, invokes the aid of
+the Match-maker, the old-time matrimonial agent in the Russian merchant
+and peasant classes by conventional etiquette. The Match-maker offers
+for her consideration several suitable men, all strangers; the Heroine
+makes her choice, and is very well content with her suitor. But she
+begins to meditate on the future, becomes moved to tears by the thought
+of her daughter's possible unhappiness in a hypothetical wretched
+marriage in the dim future, and at last, unable to endure this painful
+prospect, she evades her betrothed and breaks off the match. While the
+characteristic and national touches are keen and true,--precursors of
+the vein which Ostrovsky so happily developed later,--the play must
+remain a matter of greater interest to Russians than to foreigners.
+
+The interest of 'The Inspector,' on the other hand, is universal:
+official negligence and corruption, bribery, masculine boastfulness and
+vanity, and feminine qualities to correspond, are the private
+prerogatives of no one nation, of no one epoch. The comedy possesses all
+the elements of social portraiture and satire without caricature:
+concentration of time, place, action, language, and a tremendous
+condensation of character traits which are not only truly, typically
+national, but which come within the ken of all fair-minded persons in
+other countries.
+
+The volume with which he scored his first success, and which must remain
+a classic, is 'Evenings at a Farm-House near Dikanka.' As the second
+volume, 'Mirgorod,' and his volume of 'St. Petersburg Tales,' all
+combine essentially the same ingredients, though in varying measure, we
+may consider them together. All the tales in the first two volumes are
+from his beloved birthplace, Little Russia. Some of them are simply the
+artistic and literary rendering of popular legends, whose counterparts
+may be found in the folk literature of other lands. Such are the story
+of the vampire, 'Vy,' 'St. John's Eve,' and the exquisite 'A May Night,'
+where the famous poetical spirit of the Ukraina is displayed in its full
+force and beauty. 'The Lost Document,' 'Sorotchinsky Fair,' 'The
+Enchanted Spot,' and others of like legendary but more exclusively
+national character, show the same fertility of wit and skill of
+management, with close study of every-day customs, superstitions, and
+life, which render them invaluable to both Russians and foreigners.
+
+More important than these, however, are such stories as 'Old-Fashioned
+Gentry' (or 'Farmers'), where keen but kindly wit, more tempered than
+the mirth of youthful high spirits which had imbued the fantastic tales,
+is mingled with the purest, deepest pathos and minute delineation of
+character and customs, in an inimitable work of the highest art. To this
+category belong also 'How the Two Ivans Quarreled' (the full title, 'How
+Ivan Ivan'itch and Ivan Nikifor'itch Quarreled,' is rather unwieldy for
+the foreign ear), and 'The Cloak,' from the volume of 'St. Petersburg
+Tales.' We may also count 'The Nevsky Prospekt' with these; while 'The
+Portrait' is semi-fantastic, 'The Nose' and 'The Calash' are wholly so,
+though not legendary, and 'The Diary of a Madman' is unexcelled as an
+amusing but touching study of a diseased mind in the ranks of petty
+officialdom.
+
+Gogol's capital work, however, is his 'Dead Souls.' In it he carried to
+its highest point his talent for accurate delineation of his countrymen
+and the conditions of their life. There is less pathos than in some of
+his short tales; but all the other elements are perfected. Pushkin's
+generosity and sound judgment were never better shown than in the gift
+which he made to Gogol of the plan of this book. He could not have
+executed it himself as well. The work must forever rank as a Russian
+classic; it ought to rank as a universal classic. The types are as
+fresh, true, and vivid to one who knows the Russia of to-day as they
+were when they were first introduced to the enthusiastic public of 1842.
+
+In the pre-Emancipation days, a soul meant a male serf. The women were
+not counted in the periodical revisions, though the working unit, a
+_tyaglo_, consisted of a man, his wife, and his horse--the indispensable
+trinity to agricultural labor. In the interval between the revisions, a
+landed proprietor continued to pay for all the serfs accredited to him
+on the official list, the births being reckoned for convenience as an
+exact offset to the deaths. Another provision of the law was, that no
+one should purchase serfs without the land to which they belonged,
+except for the purpose of colonization. An ingenious fraud suggested by
+a combination of these two laws forms the foundation of 'Dead Souls.'
+The hero, Tchitchikoff, is an official who has struggled up ambitiously
+and shrewdly, through numerous vicissitudes of bribe-taking, extortion,
+and ensuing discomfiture, to a snug berth in the custom-house service,
+from which he is ejected under circumstances which render further
+flights difficult if not impossible. In this strait he hits upon the
+idea of purchasing from landed proprietors of mediocre probity the souls
+who are dead, though still nominally alive, and on whom they are forced
+to pay taxes. Land is being given away gratuitously, in the southern
+governments of Kherson and Tauris, to any one who will settle upon it,
+as every one knows. His plan is to buy one thousand non-existent serfs
+("dead souls"), at a maximum of one hundred rubles apiece, for
+colonization on an equally non-existent estate in the south, and then,
+by mortgaging them to the loan bank for the nobility known as the
+Council of Guardians, obtain a capital of two hundred thousand rubles.
+In pursuance of this clever scheme he sets out on his travels, visits
+provincial towns and the estates of landed gentry of every shade of
+character, dishonesty, and financial standing, where he either buys for
+a song, or cajoles from them as a gift, large numbers of "dead souls."
+It is unnecessary and impossible to do more than reinforce the hint
+which this statement contains, by the assurance that Gogol used to the
+uttermost the magnificent opportunity thus afforded him of showing up
+Russian life and manners. Though the scene of Tchitchikoff's wanderings
+does not include either capital, the life there does not escape the
+author's notice in his asides and illustrative arguments. It may also be
+said that while his talent lies pre-eminently in the delineation of men,
+he does not fail in his portraits of women; though as a rule these are
+more general--in the nature of a composite photograph--than particular.
+The day for minute analysis of feminine character had not arrived, and
+in all Gogol's works there is, properly speaking, no such thing as the
+heroine playing a first-class role, whether of the antique or the modern
+pattern.
+
+Gogol's great historical novel, 'Taras Bulba,' which deals with the
+famous Kazak republic of the Dniepr Falls (Zaporozhya), stands equally
+with his other volumes of the first rank in poetry, dramatic power, and
+truth to life. It possesses also a force of tragedy and passion in love
+which are altogether lacking, or but faintly indicated, in his other
+masterpieces.
+
+                                      [Signature: Isabel F. Hapgood]
+
+
+
+FROM 'THE INSPECTOR'
+
+
+    _Scene_: _A room in the house of the Chief of Police.
+
+    _Present_: _Chief of Police, Curator of Benevolent Institutions,
+    Superintendent of Schools, Judge, Commissary of Police, Doctor,
+    two Policemen._
+
+_Chief_--I have summoned you, gentlemen, in order to communicate to you an
+unpleasant piece of news: an Inspector is coming.
+
+_Judge_--What! An Inspector?
+
+_Chief_--An Inspector from St. Petersburg, incognito. And with secret
+orders, to boot.
+
+_Judge_--I thought so!
+
+_Curator_--If there's not trouble, then I'm mistaken!
+
+_Superintendent_--Heavens! And with secret orders, too!
+
+_Chief_--I foresaw it: all last night I was dreaming of two huge rats; I
+never saw such rats: they were black, and of supernatural size! They
+came, and smelled, and went away. I will read you the letter I have
+received from Andrei Ivan'itch Tchorikoff,--whom you know, Artemiy
+Philip'itch. This is what he writes:--"Dear friend, gossip and
+benefactor!" [_Mutters in an undertone, as he runs his eye quickly over
+it._] "I hasten to inform you, among other things, that an official has
+arrived with orders to inspect the entire government, and our district
+in particular." [_Raises his finger significantly._] "I have heard this
+from trustworthy people, although he represents himself as a private
+individual. As I know that you are not quite free from faults, since you
+are a sensible man, and do not like to let slip what runs into your
+hands--" [_Pauses._] Well, here are some remarks about his own
+affairs--"so I advise you to be on your guard: for he may arrive at any
+moment, if he is not already arrived and living somewhere incognito.
+Yesterday--" Well, what follows is about family matters--"My sister Anna
+Kirilovna has come with her husband; Ivan Kirilitch has grown very fat,
+and still plays the violin--" and so forth, and so forth. So there you
+have the whole matter.
+
+_Judge_--Yes, the matter is so unusual, so remarkable; something
+unexpected.
+
+_Superintendent_--And why? Anton Anton'itch, why is this? Why is the
+Inspector coming hither?
+
+_Chief_ [_sighs_]--Why? Evidently, it is fate. [_Sighs._] Up to this
+time, God be praised, they have attended to other towns; now our turn
+has come.
+
+_Judge_--I think, Anton Anton'itch, that there is some fine political
+cause at the bottom of this. This means something: Russia--yes--Russia
+wants to go to war, and the minister, you see, has sent an official to
+find out whether there is any treason.
+
+_Chief_--What's got hold of him? A sensible man, truly! Treason in a
+provincial town! Is it a border town--is it, now? Why, you could ride
+away from here for three years and not reach any other kingdom.
+
+_Judge_--No, I tell you. You don't--you don't--The government has subtle
+reasons; no matter if it is out of the way, they don't care for that.
+
+_Chief_--Whether they care or not, I have warned you, gentlemen. See to
+it! I have made some arrangements in my own department, and I advise you
+to do the same. Especially you, Artemiy Philip'itch! Without doubt, this
+traveling official will wish first of all to inspect your
+institutions--and therefore you must arrange things so that they will be
+decent. The nightcaps should be clean, and the sick people should not
+look like blacksmiths, as they usually do in private.
+
+_Curator_--Well, that's a mere trifle. We can put clean nightcaps on
+them.
+
+_Chief_--And then, you ought to have written up over the head of each
+bed, in Latin or some other language--that's your business--the name of
+each disease: when each patient was taken sick, the day and hour. It is
+not well that your sick people should smoke such strong tobacco that one
+has to sneeze every time he goes in there. Yes, and it would be better
+if there were fewer of them: it will be set down at once to bad
+supervision or to lack of skill on the doctor's part.
+
+_Curator_--Oh! so far as the doctoring is concerned, Christian
+Ivan'itch and I have already taken measures: the nearer to nature the
+better,--we don't use any expensive medicines. Man is a simple creature:
+if he dies, why then he dies; if he gets well, why then he gets well.
+And then, it would have been difficult for Christian Ivan'itch to make
+them understand him--he doesn't know one word of Russian.
+
+_Chief_--I should also advise you, Ammos Feodor'itch, to turn your
+attention to court affairs. In the ante-room, where the clients usually
+assemble, your janitor has got a lot of geese and goslings, which waddle
+about under foot. Of course it is praiseworthy to be thrifty in domestic
+affairs, and why should not the janitor be so too? only, you know, it is
+not proper in that place. I meant to mention it to you before, but
+always forgot it.
+
+_Judge_--I'll order them to be taken to the kitchen this very day. Will
+you come and dine with me?
+
+_Chief_--And moreover, it is not well that all sorts of stuff should be
+put to dry in the court-room, and that over the very desk, with the
+documents, there should be a hunting-whip. I know that you are fond of
+hunting, but there is a proper time for everything, and you can hang it
+up there again when the Inspector takes his departure. And then your
+assistant--he's a man of experience, but there's a smell about him as
+though he had just come from a distillery--and that's not as it should
+be. I meant to speak to you about it long ago, but something, I don't
+recall now precisely what, put it out of my mind. There is a remedy, if
+he really was born with the odor, as he asserts: you might advise him
+to eat onions or garlic or something. In that case, Christian Ivan'itch
+could assist you with some medicaments.
+
+_Judge_--No, it's impossible to drive it out: he says that his mother
+injured him when he was a child, and an odor of whisky has emanated from
+him ever since.
+
+_Chief_--Yes, I just remarked on it. As for internal arrangements, and
+what Andrei Ivan'itch in his letter calls "faults," I can say nothing.
+Yes, and strange to say, there is no man who has not his faults. God
+himself arranged it so, and it is useless for the freethinkers to
+maintain the contrary.
+
+_Judge_--What do you mean by faults, Anton Anton'itch? There are various
+sorts of faults. I tell every one frankly that I take bribes; but what
+sort of bribes? greyhound pups. That's quite another thing.
+
+_Chief_--Well, greyhound pups or anything else, it's all the same.
+
+_Judge_--Well, no, Anton Anton'itch. But for example, if some one has a
+fur coat worth five hundred rubles, and his wife has a shawl--
+
+_Chief_--Well, and how about your taking greyhound pups as bribes? Why
+don't you trust in God? You never go to church. I am firm in the faith,
+at all events, and go to church every Sunday. But you--oh, I know you!
+If you begin to talk about the creation of the world, one's hair rises
+straight up on his head.
+
+_Judge_--It came of itself, of its own accord.
+
+_Chief_--Well, in some cases it is worse to have brains than to be
+entirely without them. Besides, I only just mentioned the district
+court: but to tell the truth, it is only very rarely that any one ever
+looks in there; 'tis such an enviable place that God himself protects
+it. And as for you, Luka Luk'itch, as superintendent of schools, you
+must bestir yourself with regard to the teachers. They are educated
+people, to be sure, and were reared at divers academies, but they have
+very peculiar ways which go naturally with that learned profession. One
+of them, for instance, the fat-faced one,--I don't recall his
+name,--cannot get along without making grimaces when he takes his
+seat;--like this [_makes a grimace_]: and then he begins to smooth his
+beard out from under his neckerchief, with his hand. In short, if he
+makes such faces at the scholars, there is nothing to be said: it must
+be necessary; I am no judge of that. But just consider--if he were to
+do that to a visitor it might be very unpleasant; the Inspector or any
+one else might take it as personal. The Devil knows what might come of
+it.
+
+_Superintendent_--What am I to do with him? I have spoken to him about
+it several times already. A few days ago, when our chief went into the
+class-room, he made such a grimace as I never beheld before. He made it
+out of good-will; but it is a judgment on me, because freethinking is
+being inculcated in the young people.
+
+_Chief_--And I must also mention the teacher of history. He's a wise
+man, that's plain, and has acquired a great mass of learning; but he
+expresses himself with so much warmth that he loses control of himself.
+I heard him once: well, so long as he was talking about the Assyrians
+and Babylonians, it was all right; but when he got to Alexander of
+Macedon, I can't describe to you what came over him. I thought there was
+a fire, by heavens! He jumped from his seat and dashed his chair to the
+floor with all his might. Alexander of Macedon was a hero, no doubt; but
+why smash the chairs? There will be a deficit in the accounts, just as
+the result of that.
+
+_Superintendent_--Yes, he is hasty! I have remarked on it to him several
+times. He says, "What would you have? I would sacrifice my life for
+science."
+
+_Chief_--Yes, such is the incomprehensible decree of fate: a learned man
+is always a drunkard, or else he makes faces that would scare the very
+saints.
+
+_Superintendent_--God forbid that he should inspect the educational
+institutions. Everybody meddles and tries to show everybody else that he
+is a learned man.
+
+_Chief_--That would be nothing: that cursed incognito! All of a sudden
+you hear--"Ah, here you are, my little dears! And who," says he, "is the
+Judge here?"--"Lyapkin-Tyapkin."--"And who is the Superintendent of the
+Hospital?"--"Zemlyanika!" That's the worst of it!
+
+    _Enter_ Postmaster
+
+_Chief_---Well, how do you feel, Ivan Kusmitch?
+
+_Postmaster_--How do I feel? How do _you_ feel, Anton Anton'itch?
+
+_Chief_--How do I feel? I'm not afraid; and yet I am,--a little. The
+merchants and citizens cause me some anxiety. They say I have been hard
+with them; but God knows, if I have ever taken anything from them it was
+not out of malice. I even think [_takes him by the arm and leads him
+aside_]--I even think there may be a sort of complaint against me. Why,
+in fact, is the Inspector coming to us? Listen, Ivan Kusmitch: why can't
+you--for our common good, you know--open every letter which passes
+through your office, going or coming, and read it, to see whether it
+contains a complaint or is simply correspondence? If it does not, then
+you can seal it up again. Besides, you could even deliver the letter
+unsealed.
+
+_Postmaster_--I know, I know. You can't tell me anything about that; I
+always do it, not out of circumspection but out of curiosity: I'm deadly
+fond of knowing what is going on in the world. It's very interesting
+reading, I can tell you! It is a real treat to read some letters: they
+contain such descriptions of occurrences, and they're so
+improving--better than the Moscow News.
+
+     [The play proceeds: two men, the town busybodies, happen to
+     find at the inn a traveler who has been living on credit and
+     going nowhere for two weeks. The landlord is about to put his
+     lodger in prison for debt, when these men jump to the
+     conclusion that he is the Inspector. The Prefect and other
+     terrified officials accept the suggestion, in spite of his
+     plain statement as to his identity. They set about making the
+     town presentable, entertain and bribe him, and bow down to
+     him. He accepts their hospitality, asks loans, makes love to
+     the Prefect's silly wife and daughter, betroths himself to
+     the latter, receives the petitions and bribes of the
+     oppressed townspeople,--and drives off with the best
+     post-horses the town can furnish, ostensibly to ask the
+     blessing of his rich old uncle on his marriage. The
+     Postmaster intercepts a letter which he has written to a
+     friend. Its revelations, and the ridicule which he therein
+     casts on his hosts, open their eyes at last. At that moment a
+     gendarme appears and announces that the Inspector has
+     arrived. Tableau.]
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by Isabel F. Hapgood
+
+
+
+OLD-FASHIONED GENTRY
+
+From 'Mirgorod'
+
+
+I am very fond of the modest life of those isolated owners of remote
+estates which are generally called "old-fashioned" in Little Russia, and
+which, like ruinous and picturesque houses, are beautiful through their
+simplicity and complete contrast to a new and regular building whose
+walls have never yet been washed by the rain, whose roof has not yet
+been overgrown with moss, and whose porch, still possessed of its
+stucco, does not yet display its red bricks. I can still see the
+low-roofed little house, with its veranda of slender, blackened wooden
+columns, surrounding it on all sides, so that in case of a thunder-storm
+or a hail-storm you could close the window shutters without getting wet;
+behind it fragrant wild-cherry trees, row upon row of dwarf fruit-trees,
+overtopped by crimson cherries and a purple sea of plums, covered with a
+lead-colored bloom, luxuriant maples under whose shade rugs were spread
+for repose; in front of the house the spacious yard, with short fresh
+grass, through which paths had been worn from the storehouses to the
+kitchen, from the kitchen to the apartments of the family; a long-necked
+goose drinking water with her young goslings, soft as down; the picket
+fence festooned with bunches of dried apples and pears, and rugs hung
+out to air; a cart-load of melons standing near the store-house, the
+oxen unyoked and lying lazily beside it. All this has for me an
+indescribable charm,--perhaps because I no longer see it, and because
+anything from which we are separated pleases us.
+
+But more than all else, the owners of this distant nook,--an old man and
+old woman,--hastening eagerly out to meet me, gave me pleasure. Afanasy
+Ivanovitch Tovstogub and his wife, Pulkheria Ivanovna Tovstogubikha,
+according to the neighboring peasants' way of expressing it, were the
+old people of whom I began to speak. If I were a painter and wished to
+depict Philemon and Baucis on canvas, I could have found no better
+models than they. Afanasy Ivanovitch was sixty years old, Pulkheria
+Ivanovna was fifty-five. Afanasy Ivanovitch was tall, always wore a
+short sheepskin coat covered with camlet, sat all doubled up, and was
+almost always smiling, whether he were telling a story or only listening
+to one. Pulkheria Ivanovna was rather serious, and hardly ever laughed;
+but her face and eyes expressed so much goodness, so much eagerness to
+treat you to all the best they owned, that you would probably have found
+a smile too repelling on her kind face. The delicate wrinkles were so
+agreeably disposed on their countenances that an artist would certainly
+have appropriated them. It seemed as though in them you might read their
+whole life: the pure, peaceful life led by the old, patriotic,
+simple-hearted, and at the same time wealthy families, which always
+present a marked contrast to those baser Little-Russians who work up
+from tar-burners and peddlers, throng the court-rooms like grasshoppers,
+squeeze the last copper from their fellow-countrymen, crowd Petersburg
+with scandal-mongers, finally acquire capital, and triumphantly add an
+_f_ to their surnames which end in _o_. No, they did not resemble those
+despicable and miserable creatures, but all ancient and native
+Little-Russian families.
+
+They never had any children, so all their affection was concentrated on
+themselves.
+
+The rooms of the little house in which our old couple dwelt were small,
+low-ceiled, such as are generally to be seen with old-fashioned people.
+In each room stood a huge stove, which occupied nearly one-third of the
+space. These little rooms were frightfully hot, because both Afanasy
+Ivanovitch and Pulkheria Ivanovna were fond of heat. All their fuel was
+stored in the ante-room, which was always filled nearly to the ceiling
+with straw, which is generally used in Little Russia in place of wood.
+
+The chairs of the room were of wood, and massive, in the style which
+generally marked those of the olden times: all had high, turned backs of
+natural wood, without any paint or varnish; they were not even
+upholstered, and somewhat resembled those which are still used by
+bishops. Triangular tables stood in the corners, a square table stood in
+front of the sofa; and there was a large mirror in a slender gilt frame,
+carved in foliage, which the flies had covered with black spots; in
+front of the sofa was a mat with flowers which resembled birds, and
+birds which resembled flowers: and these things constituted almost the
+entire furniture of the far from elegant little house where my old
+people lived. The maids' room was filled with young and elderly
+serving-women in striped chemises, to whom Pulkheria Ivanovna sometimes
+gave trifles to sew, and whom she set to picking over berries, but who
+ran about the kitchen or slept the greater part of the time. Pulkheria
+Ivanovna regarded it as a necessity that she should keep them in the
+house, and she kept a strict watch of their morals; but to no purpose.
+
+Afanasy Ivan'itch very rarely occupied himself with the farming;
+although he sometimes went out to see the mowers and reapers, and gazed
+with great intensity at their work. All the burden of management
+devolved upon Pulkheria Ivan'na. Pulkheria Ivanovna's housekeeping
+consisted of a constant locking and unlocking of the storehouse, of
+salting, drying, and preserving incalculable quantities of fruits and
+vegetables. Her house was exactly like a chemical laboratory. A fire was
+constantly laid under an apple-tree; and the kettle or the brass pan
+with preserves, jelly, marmalade,--made with honey, with sugar, and with
+I know not what else,--was hardly ever taken from the tripod. Under
+another tree the coachman was forever distilling vodka with
+peach-leaves, with wild cherry, cherry flowers, wild gentian, or
+cherry-stones, in a copper still; and at the end of the process he was
+never able to control his tongue, but chattered all sorts of nonsense
+which Pulkheria Ivanovna did not understand, and took himself off to the
+kitchen to sleep. Such a quantity of all this stuff was preserved,
+salted, and dried that it would probably have overwhelmed the whole yard
+at least (for Pulkheria Ivanovna liked to lay in a store far beyond what
+was calculated for consumption), if the greater part of it had not been
+devoured by the maid-servants, who crept into the storehouse and overate
+themselves to such a fearful extent that they groaned and complained of
+their stomachs for a whole day afterwards.
+
+Both the old folks, in accordance with old-fashioned customs, were very
+fond of eating. As soon as daylight dawned (they always rose early) and
+the doors had begun their many-toned concert of squeaks, they sat down
+at the table and drank coffee. When Afanasy Ivanovitch had drunk his
+coffee, he went out, flirted his handkerchief, and said, "Kish, kish! go
+away from the veranda, geese!" In the yard he generally encountered the
+steward: he usually entered into conversation with him, inquired about
+the work of the estate with the greatest minuteness, and imparted to him
+such a multitude of observations and orders as would have caused any one
+to marvel at his understanding of business; and no novice would have
+ventured to conjecture that so acute a master could be robbed. But his
+steward was a clever rascal: he knew well what answers he must give, and
+better still how to manage things.
+
+This done, Afanasy Ivanovitch returned to the house, and approaching
+Pulkheria Ivanovna, said, "Well, Pulkheria Ivan'na, is it time to eat
+something, do you think?"
+
+"What shall we have to eat now, Afanasy Ivan'itch,--some wheat and suet
+cakes, or some patties with poppy-seeds, or some salted mushrooms?"
+
+"Some mushrooms, then, or some patties, if you please," said Afanasy
+Ivan'itch; and then suddenly a table-cloth would make its appearance on
+the table, with the patties and mushrooms.
+
+An hour before dinner Afanasy Ivan'itch took another snack, and drank
+vodka from an ancient silver cup, ate mushrooms, divers dried fishes,
+and other things. They sat down to dine at twelve o'clock. There stood
+upon the table, in addition to the platters and sauce-boats, a multitude
+of pots with covers pasted on, that the appetizing products of the
+savory old-fashioned cooking might not be exhaled abroad. At dinner the
+conversation turned upon subjects closely connected with the meal.
+
+After dinner Afanasy Ivanovitch went to lie down for an hour, at the end
+of which time Pulkheria Ivanovna brought him a sliced watermelon and
+said, "Here, try this, Afanasy Ivan'itch; see what a good melon it is."
+
+"Don't put faith in it because it is red in the centre, Pulkheria
+Ivan'na," said Afanasy Ivanovitch, taking a good-sized chunk. "Sometimes
+they are not good though they are red."
+
+But the watermelon slowly disappeared. Then Afanasy Ivanovitch ate a few
+pears, and went out into the garden for a walk with Pulkheria Ivanovna.
+When they returned to the house, Pulkheria Ivanovna went about her own
+affairs; but he sat down on the veranda facing the yard, and observed
+how the interior of the store-room was alternately disclosed and
+revealed, and how the girls jostled each other as they carried in or
+brought out all sorts of stuff in wooden boxes, sieves, trays, and other
+receptacles for fruit. After waiting a while, he sent for Pulkheria
+Ivanovna or went in search of her himself, and said, "What is there for
+me to eat, Pulkheria Ivan'na?"
+
+"What is there?" asked Pulkheria Ivanovna. "Shall I go and tell them to
+bring you some curd dumplings with berries, which I had set aside for
+you?"
+
+"That would be good," answered Afanasy Ivanovitch.
+
+"Or perhaps you could eat some kisel?" [A jelly-like pudding, made of
+potato flour, and flavored with some sour fruit juice.]
+
+"That is good also," replied Afanasy Invanovitch; whereupon all of them
+were immediately brought and eaten in due course.
+
+Before supper Afanasy Invanovitch took another appetizing snack.
+
+At half-past nine they sat down to supper. After supper they went
+directly to bed, and universal silence settled down upon this busy yet
+quiet nook.
+
+The chamber in which Afanasy Ivanovitch and Pulkheria Ivanovna slept was
+so hot that very few people could have stayed in it more than a few
+hours; but Afanasy Ivanovitch, for the sake of more warmth, slept upon
+the stove bench, although the excessive heat caused him to rise several
+times in the course of the night and walk about the room. Sometimes
+Afanasy Ivanovitch groaned as he walked thus about the room.
+
+Then Pulkheria Ivanovna inquired, "Why do you groan, Afanasy Ivan'itch?"
+
+"God knows, Pulkheria Ivan'na! It seems to me that my stomach aches a
+little," said Afanasy Ivanovitch.
+
+"Hadn't you better eat something, Afanasy Ivan'itch?"
+
+"I don't know; perhaps it would be well, Pulkheria Ivan'na: by the way,
+what is there to eat?"
+
+"Sour milk, or some stewed dried pears."
+
+"If you please, I will try them," said Afanasy Ivanovitch. A sleepy maid
+was sent to ransack the cupboards, and Afanasy Ivanovitch ate a
+plateful; after which he remarked, "Now I seem to feel relieved."
+
+I loved to visit them; and though I over-ate myself horribly, like all
+their guests, and although it was very bad for me, still I was always
+glad to go to them. Besides, I think that the air of Little Russia must
+possess some special properties which aid digestion; for if any one were
+to undertake to eat in that way here, there is not a doubt but that he
+would find himself lying on the table a corpse, instead of in bed.
+
+Pulkheria Ivanovna had a little gray cat, which almost always lay coiled
+up in a ball at her feet. Pulkheria Ivanovna stroked her occasionally,
+and tickled her neck with her finger, the petted cat stretching it out
+as long as possible. It would not be correct to affirm that Pulkheria
+Ivanovna loved her so very much, but she had simply become attached to
+her from seeing her continually about. Afanasy Ivanovitch often joked
+about the attachment.
+
+Behind their garden lay a large forest, which had been spared by the
+enterprising steward, possibly because the sound of the axe might have
+reached the ears of Pulkheria Ivanovna. It was dense, neglected; the old
+tree trunks were concealed by luxuriant hazel-bushes, and resembled the
+feathered legs of pigeons. In this wood dwelt wild cats. These cats had
+a long conference with Pulkheria Ivanovna's tame cat through a hole
+under the storehouse, and at last led her astray, as a detachment of
+soldiers leads astray a dull-witted peasant. Pulkheria Ivanovna noticed
+that her cat was missing, and caused search to be made for her; but no
+cat was to be found. Three days passed; Pulkheria Ivanovna felt sorry,
+but in the end forgot all about her loss.
+
+     [The cat returns to the place half starved, and is coaxed to
+     come into the house and eat, but runs away on Pulkheria
+     Ivanovna's trying to pet her.]
+
+The old woman became pensive. "It is my death which is come for me," she
+said to herself; and nothing could cheer her. All day she was sad. In
+vain did Afanasy Ivanovitch jest, and seek to discover why she had
+suddenly grown so grave. Pulkheria Ivanovna either made no reply, or one
+which did not in the least satisfy Afanasy Ivanovitch. The next day she
+had grown visibly thinner.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Pulkheria Ivanovna? You are not ill?"
+
+"No, I am not ill, Afanasy Ivan'itch. I want to tell you about a strange
+occurrence, I know that I shall die this year; my death has already come
+for me."
+
+Afanasy Ivanovitch's mouth was distorted with pain. Nevertheless he
+tried to conquer the sad feeling in his mind, and said smiling, "God
+only knows what you are talking about, Pulkheria Ivan'na! You must have
+drunk some of your peach infusion instead of your usual herb tea."
+
+"No, Afanasy Ivan'itch, I have not drunk my peach infusion," replied
+Pulkheria Ivanovna. "I beg of you, Afanasy Ivan'itch, to fulfill my
+wishes. When I die, bury me by the church wall. Put on me my grayish
+gown,--the one with the small flowers on a cinnamon ground. My satin
+gown with the red stripes you must not put on me: a corpse needs no
+clothes; of what use are they to her? But it will be good for you. Make
+yourself a fine dressing-gown, in case visitors come, so that you can
+make a good appearance when you receive them."
+
+"God knows what you are saying, Pulkheria Ivan'na!" said Afanasy
+Ivanovitch. "Death will come some time; but you frighten me with such
+remarks."
+
+"Mind, Yavdokha," she said, turning to the housekeeper, whom she had
+sent for expressly, "that you look after your master when I am dead, and
+cherish him like the apple of your eye, like your own child. See that
+everything he likes is prepared in the kitchen; that his linen and
+clothes are always clean; that when visitors happen in, you dress him
+properly, otherwise he will come forth in his old dressing-gown, for he
+often forgets now whether it is a festival or an ordinary day."
+
+Poor old woman! She had no thought for the great moment which was
+awaiting her, nor of her soul, nor of the future life; she thought only
+of her poor companion, with whom she had passed her life, and whom she
+was about to leave an orphan and unprotected. After this fashion did she
+arrange everything with great skill, so that after her death Afanasy
+Ivanovitch might not perceive her absence. Her faith in her approaching
+end was so firm, and her mind was so fixed upon it, that in a few days
+she actually took to her bed, and was unable to swallow any nourishment.
+
+Afanasy Ivanovitch was all attention, and never left her bedside.
+"Perhaps you could eat something, Pulkheria Ivan'na," he said, gazing
+uneasily into her eyes. But Pulkheria Ivanovna made no reply. At length,
+after a long silence, she moved her lips as though desirous of saying
+something--and her spirit fled.
+
+Afanasy Ivanovitch was utterly amazed. It seemed to him so terrible that
+he did not even weep. He gazed at her with troubled eyes, as though he
+did not understand the meaning of a corpse.
+
+Five years passed. Being in the vicinity at the end of the five years, I
+went to the little estate of Afanasy Ivanovitch, to inquire after my old
+neighbor, with whom I had spent the day so agreeably in former times,
+dining always on the choicest delicacies of his kind-hearted wife. When
+I drove up to the door, the house seemed twice as old as formerly; the
+peasants' cottages were lying on one side, without doubt exactly like
+their owners; the fence and hedge around the yard were dilapidated; and
+I myself saw the cook pull out a paling to heat the stove, when she had
+only a couple of steps to take in order to get the kindling-wood which
+had been piled there expressly for her use. I stepped sadly upon the
+veranda; the same dogs, now blind or with broken legs, raised their
+bushy tails, all matted with burs, and barked.
+
+The old man came out to meet me. So this was he! I recognized him at
+once, but he was twice as bent as formerly. He knew me, and greeted me
+with the smile which was so familiar to me. I followed him into the
+room. All there seemed as in the past; but I observed a strange
+disorder, a tangible loss of something. In everything was visible the
+absence of the painstaking Pulkheria Ivanovna. At table, they gave us a
+knife without a handle; the dishes were prepared with little art. I did
+not care to inquire about the management of the estate; I was even
+afraid to glance at the farm buildings. I tried to interest Afanasy
+Ivanovitch in something, and told him divers bits of news. He listened
+with his customary smile, but his glance was at times quite
+unintelligent; and thoughts did not wander therein--they simply
+disappeared.
+
+"This is the dish--" said Afanasy Ivanovitch when they brought us curds
+and flour with cream, "--this is the dish--" he continued, and I
+observed that his voice began to quiver, and that tears were on the
+point of bursting from his leaden eyes; but he collected all his
+strength in the effort to repress them: "this is the dish which
+the--the--the de--ceas--" and his tears suddenly gushed forth, his hand
+fell upon his plate, the plate was overturned, flew from the table, and
+was broken. He sat stupidly, holding the spoon, and tears like a
+never-ceasing fountain flowed, flowed in streams down upon his napkin.
+
+He did not live long after this. I heard of his death recently. What was
+strange, though, was that the circumstances attending it somewhat
+resembled those connected with the death of Pulkheria Ivanovna. One day,
+Afanasy Ivanovitch decided to take a short stroll in the garden. As he
+went slowly down the path with his usual heedlessness, a strange thing
+happened to him. All at once he heard some one behind him say in a
+distinct voice, "Afanasy Ivan'itch!" He turned round, but there was no
+one there. He looked on all sides; he peered into the shrubbery,--no one
+anywhere. The day was calm and the sun was shining brightly. He pondered
+for a moment. Then his face lighted up, and at last he cried, "It is
+Pulkheria Ivanovna calling me!"
+
+He surrendered himself utterly to the moral conviction that Pulkheria
+Ivanovna was calling him. He yielded with the meekness of a submissive
+child, withered up, coughed, melted away like a candle, and at last
+expired like it when nothing remains to feed its poor flame. "Lay me
+beside Pulkheria Ivan'na"--that was all he said before his death.
+
+His wish was fulfilled; and they buried him beside the churchyard wall
+close to Pulkheria Ivanovna's grave. The guests at the funeral were few,
+but there was a throng of common and poor people. The house was already
+quite deserted. The enterprising clerk and village elder carried off to
+their cottages all the old household utensils which the housekeeper did
+not manage to appropriate.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by Isabel F. Hapgood
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: CARLO GOLDONI.]
+
+
+
+
+CARLO GOLDONI
+
+(1707-1793)
+
+BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON
+
+
+Italy is generally felt to be, above all other lands, the natural home
+of the drama. In acting, as in music, indeed, the sceptre has never
+wholly passed from her: Ristori and Salvini certainly are not yet
+forgotten. The Graeco-Roman comedies of Plautus and Terence, the
+rhetorical tragedy of Seneca, have had a far more direct hand in molding
+the modern dramatists' art than have the loftier creative masterpieces
+of the great Attic Four. Indeed, Latin has never become in Italy a
+really dead language, remote from the popular consciousness. The
+splendor of the Church ritual, the great mass of the educated clergy,
+the almost purely Latin roots of the vernacular, have made such a loss
+impossible.
+
+In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries Terence and Plautus were often
+revived on the stage, still oftener imitated in Latin. Many of the
+greatest names in modern Italian literature are in some degree
+associated with drama. Thus Machiavelli made free Italian versions from
+both the comic Latin poets, and wrote a powerful though immoral prose
+comedy, 'The Magic Draught' (Mandragola). Tasso's 'Aminta' is as sweet
+and musical, and hardly so artificial, as that famous 'Pastor Fido' of
+Guarini, which has become the ideal type of all the mock-pastoral comedy
+out of which the modern opera has risen.
+
+So, when Goldoni is hailed as the father of modern Italian comedy, it
+can only mean that his prolific Muse has dominated the stage in our own
+century and in its native land. In his delightfully naive Memoirs he
+frequently announces himself as the leader of _reform_ in the dramatic
+art. And this claim is better founded; though there is a startling
+discrepancy between the character, the temper, the life of this child of
+the sun, and the Anglo-Saxon ideal of "Man the Reformer" as delineated,
+for instance, by our own cooler-blooded Emerson!
+
+Under the lead of Goldoni's elder contemporary Metastasio, the lyrical
+drama of pastoral and artificial love had become fully wedded to music;
+and it is rightly felt that the resulting modern opera is a genus of its
+own, not essentially nor chiefly dramatic in character and aims. An
+opera can be sung without action; it cannot be acted without music. On
+the other hand, the farce had become almost restricted to the stock
+masked characters, Pantaloon, the Dottore, Arlecchino, and the rest,
+with a narrow range of childish buffoonery in the action. The companies
+of professional actors, endowed with that marvelous power of
+improvisation which the very language of Italy seems to stimulate,
+hardly permitted the poet to offer them more than a mere outline of a
+shallow plot, to be filled in from scene to scene at the impulse of the
+moment on the stage!
+
+Under these circumstances it was indeed necessary to reclaim the rights
+of the dramatic poet, to reduce to decent limits the "gag" which the
+comic actor has doubtless always been eager to use, and also to educate
+or beguile his public up to the point of lending a moderately attentive
+ear to a play of sustained interest and culminating plot. In this
+seemingly modest but really most difficult task, Goldoni scored a
+decided success,--a triumph.
+
+Even his checkered life as a whole was, at eighty, in his own retrospect
+a happy comedy, mingled with few serious reverses and hardly darkened at
+all by remorse. Such lives at best are nowise numerous. Adequate
+self-portraitures of successful artists are so rare that the
+autobiographies of the gentle Goldoni, and of his savage
+fellow-countryman Benvenuto Cellini, almost form a class of literature
+by themselves.
+
+Born in Venice in fair social position, Goldoni spent his childhood
+chiefly in Chiozza, a ruder and humbler miniature of the island city
+some twenty-five miles away. Though an incurable wanderer,--indeed, so
+filled with the true Bohemian's feverish love for change that he never
+could endure even success anywhere for many summers,--he yet gave more
+of his best years, and a heartier loyalty, to Venice than to any other
+home. He knew best, and delineated best, the ordinary life of the
+lagoons. Mr. Howells, himself by long residence and love a
+half-Venetian, declares that the comedies in the local dialect are
+invariably the best, and next best the Italian plays whose scenes are at
+least laid in Venice. Perhaps the critic is here himself unduly swayed
+by his affections. Goldoni knew well nearly all Italian lands. He had
+even, for a series of years, a career as an advocate in Pisa. "My comic
+genius was not extinguished, but suppressed," he explains. He did not
+even then give up play-writing, and a traveling theatre manager easily
+beguiled him back to Venice. This was in 1747, and this same manager,
+Medebac, setting up a new theatre in Venice, absorbed Goldoni's energies
+for several years. It was in 1750 that he successfully carried out a
+rash vow to produce sixteen new comedies in a single year! Among these
+are a goodly number of his best, including 'The Coffee-House,' from
+which a few scenes are given below.
+
+Though he passed over into the service of a different theatre, traveled
+constantly with his actors, accepted invitations to Parma, Rome, etc.,
+to oversee the performance of his plays, yet he never gave up his home
+in Venice altogether, until summoned to Paris in 1761. These fourteen
+years, moreover, form the happiest period of his life. His income from
+the theatres, from published editions of his comedies, and from his
+inherited property, would have made him wealthy, but for his extravagant
+and careless mode of life.
+
+Despite one notable success in French with the comedy 'The Surly
+Benefactor' (1771), Goldoni's life in France was relatively unprofitable
+and ignoble. He became Italian teacher of various royal princesses, with
+the utmost uncertainty and delay as to his salaries or pensions. Yet he
+could never break the fascination of Paris. The art of the French actors
+was a never-failing delight to him. There, at the age of eighty, in
+French, he wrote and published his 'Memoirs.' The Revolution swept away
+his negligent patrons. In poverty and utter neglect he died at last,
+just as the republicans were ready to restore his royal pension.
+
+Goldoni was the child of Italy and of the eighteenth century. He had no
+serious quarrel with his environment. He was not greatly superior, in
+actual character or aspirations, to his associates. His affection for
+his devoted wife did not save him from many a wandering passion. The
+promising prima donnas, in particular, found in him an all too devoted
+instructor and protector. The gaming-table and the lottery are
+apparently irresistible to any true Italian, and Goldoni knew by heart
+the passions which he ridicules or condemns, though without bitterness,
+upon his stage. His oft-repeated claim to have reformed the Italian
+theatre meant chiefly this: that between the lyrical drama of Metastasio
+on the one hand, and the popular masque with stock characters on the
+other,--and while contributing to both these forms of art,--he did
+firmly establish the comedy of plot and dialogue, carefully learned and
+rehearsed, in which the players must speak the speech as it is
+pronounced to them by the poet.
+
+Goldoni himself acknowledges, perhaps not too sincerely, in his Parisian
+memoirs, the superiority, the mastership, of Moliere. In truth, the
+great Frenchman stands, with Aristophanes and Shakespeare, upon a lonely
+height quite unapproached by lesser devotees of Thalia. We must not seek
+in Goldoni a prober of the human heart, not even a fearless satirist of
+social conditions. In his rollicking good-humor and content with the
+world as he finds it, Goldoni is much like Plautus. He is moreover under
+a censorship hardly less severe. He dares not, for instance, introduce
+upon his stage any really offensive type of Venetian nobleman. As for
+religious dictation, the convent must not even be mentioned, though the
+_aunt_ with whom the young lady is visiting sometimes becomes as
+transparent an idiom as the "uncle" of a spendthrift cockney! The
+audience, moreover, demand only diversion, not serious instruction (as
+Goethe complains, even of his grave Germans, in the 'Prolog im
+Theater'). It is remarkable, under all these conditions, how healthy,
+how kindly, how proper, most of Goldoni's work is. Doubtless, like
+Goldsmith, he could preach the more gracefully, persuasively, and
+unobservedly, because he never attempted to escape from the very vices
+or indulgences that he satirizes. But even the most determined seeker
+for the moral element in art will find little indeed thereof in
+Goldoni's merry comedies. Incredible as it seems to us Puritans, he
+really made it his mission to amuse. Thoroughly in love with the rather
+ignoble, trivial life of his day, he holds the dramatic mirror up to it
+with lifelong optimism and enjoyment. His wit is not keen, his poetic
+imagination is slight indeed. Aside from the true dramatist's skill in
+construction, in plot, his power lies chiefly in the rapid, clear, firm
+outlines of his character-drawing. These characters are for the most
+part just about such men and women, such creatures of impulse and whim,
+such genial mingling of naughtiness and good intentions, as we see about
+us. He never delineates a saint or a hero; hardly a monster of
+wickedness. He had never known either, and would not have been
+interested if he had. The charm of Goldoni is felt chiefly in Venice, or
+at least in Italy, while listening to his comedy and watching the
+enjoyment mirrored in the faces of his own audience. It evaporates in
+translation, and his plays are meant only to be heard, not read. To Mr.
+Howells's own affectionate testimony we may add his happy citation from
+Goethe, who is writing from Venice in 1786:
+
+     "Yesterday, at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed 'Le
+     Baruffe-Chiozotte,' which I should interpret 'The Frays and
+     Feuds of Chiozza.' The _dramatis personae_ are principally
+     seafaring people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with their wives,
+     sisters, and daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of
+     such sort of people in their good or ill luck,--their
+     dealings one with another, their vehemence but goodness of
+     heart, commonplace remarks and unaffected manners, their
+     naive wit and humor,--all this was excellently imitated. The
+     piece moreover is Goldoni's, and as I had been only the day
+     before in the place itself, and as the tones and manners of
+     the sailors and people of the seaport still echoed in my ears
+     and floated before my eyes, it delighted me very much; and
+     although I did not understand a single allusion, I was
+     nevertheless, on the whole, able to follow it pretty well....
+     I never witnessed anything like the noisy delight the people
+     evinced at seeing themselves and their mates represented with
+     such truth of nature. It was one continued laugh and
+     tumultuous shout of exultation from beginning to end....
+     Great praise is due to the author, who out of nothing has
+     here created the most amusing _divertissement_. However, he
+     never could have done it with any other people than his own
+     merry and light-hearted countrymen."
+
+Of Goldoni's one hundred and sixty comedies, only a scanty handful have
+been tolerably translated in English. As accessible and agreeable an
+introduction as any, perhaps, is the version of four notable plays by
+Miss Helen Zimmern in the series 'Masterpieces of Foreign Authors.' The
+'Memoirs' have been fairly rendered by John Black, and this version,
+considerably abridged, was served up by Mr. Howells in 1877 among his
+series of 'Choice Autobiographies.' Mr. Howells's introductory essay
+appeared also in the Atlantic Monthly. It has been drawn upon somewhat
+in the present sketch.
+
+                                [Signature: William Cranston Lawton]
+
+
+
+FIRST LOVE AND PARTING
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+I was intrusted some time afterwards with another commission, of a much
+more agreeable and amusing nature. This was to carry through an
+investigation, ten leagues from the town, into the circumstances of a
+dispute where firearms had been made use of and dangerous wounds
+received. As the country where this happened was flat, and the road lay
+through charming estates and country-houses, I engaged several of my
+friends to follow me; we were in all twelve, six males and six females,
+and four domestics. We all rode on horseback, and we employed twelve
+days in this delicious expedition....
+
+In this party there were two sisters, one married and the other single.
+The latter was very much to my liking, and I may say I made the party
+for her alone. She was as prudent and modest as her sister was
+headstrong and foolish; the singularity of our journey afforded us an
+opportunity of coming to an explanation, and we became lovers.
+
+My investigation was concluded in two hours; we selected another road
+for our return, to vary our pleasure.... The six gentlemen of our party
+proposed another species of entertainment. In the palace of the governor
+there was a theatre, which they wished to put to some use; and they did
+me the honor to tell me that they had conceived the project on my
+account, and they left me the power of choosing the pieces and
+distributing the characters. I thanked them, and accepted the
+proposition; and with the approbation of his Excellency and my
+chancellor, I put myself at the head of this new entertainment. I could
+have wished something comic, but I was not fond of buffoonery, and there
+were no good comedies; I therefore gave the preference to tragedy. As
+the operas of Metastasio were then represented everywhere, even without
+music, I put the airs into recitative; I endeavored as well as I could
+to approximate the style of that charming author; and I made choice of
+'Didone' and 'Siroe' for our representation. I distributed the parts
+according to the characters of my actors, whom I knew, and I reserved
+the worst for myself. In this I acted wisely, for I was completely
+unsuited for tragedy. Fortunately, I had composed two small pieces in
+which I played two parts of character, and redeemed my reputation.
+The first of these pieces was 'The Good Father,' and the second 'La
+Cantatrice.' Both were approved of, and my acting was considered
+passable for an amateur. I saw the last of these pieces some time
+afterwards at Venice, where a young advocate thought proper to give it
+out as his own work, and to receive compliments on the subject; but
+having been imprudent enough to publish it with his name, he experienced
+the mortification of seeing his plagiarism unmasked.
+
+I did what I could to engage my beautiful Angelica to accept a part in
+our tragedies, but it was impossible; she was timid, and had she even
+been willing, her parents would not have given their permission. She
+visited us; but this pleasure cost her tears, for she was jealous, and
+suffered much from seeing me on such a familiar footing with my fair
+companions. The poor little girl loved me with tenderness and sincerity,
+and I loved her also with my whole soul; I may say she was the first
+person whom I ever loved. She aspired to become my wife, which she would
+have been if certain singular reflections, that however were well
+founded, had not turned me from the design. Her elder sister had been
+remarkably beautiful, and after her first child she became ugly. The
+youngest had the same skin and the same features; she was one of those
+delicate beauties whom the air injures, and whom the smallest fatigue or
+pain discomposes: of all of which I saw a convincing proof. The fatigue
+of our journey produced a visible change upon her: I was young, and if
+my wife were in a short time to have lost her bloom, I foresaw what
+would have been my despair. This was reasoning curiously for a lover;
+but whether from virtue, weakness, or inconstancy, I quitted Feltre
+without marrying her.
+
+
+
+THE ORIGIN OF "MASKS" IN THE ITALIAN COMEDY
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+The amateurs of the old comedy, on seeing the rapid progress of the new,
+declared everywhere that it was unworthy of an Italian to give a blow to
+a species of comedy in which Italy had attained great distinction, and
+which no other nation had ever yet been able to imitate. But what made
+the greatest impression on the discontented was the suppression of
+masks, which my system appeared to threaten. It was said that these
+personages had for two centuries been the amusement of Italy, and that
+it ought not to be deprived of a species of comic diversion which it had
+created and so well supported.
+
+Before venturing to give any opinion on this subject, I imagine the
+reader will have no objection to listen for a few minutes to a short
+account of the origin, employment, and effects of these four masks.
+Comedy, which in all ages has been the favorite entertainment of
+polished nations, shared the fate of the arts and sciences, and was
+buried under the ruins of the Empire during the decay of letters. The
+germ of comedy, however, was never altogether extinguished in the
+fertile bosom of Italy. Those who first endeavored to bring about its
+revival, not finding in an ignorant age writers of sufficient skill, had
+the boldness to draw out plans, to distribute them into acts and scenes,
+and to utter extempore the subjects, thoughts, and witticisms which they
+had concerted among themselves. Those who could read (and neither the
+great nor the rich were of the number) found that in the comedies of
+Plautus and Terence there were always duped fathers, debauched sons,
+enamored girls, knavish servants, and mercenary maids; and, running over
+the different districts of Italy, they took the fathers from Venice and
+Bologna, the servants from Bergamo, and the lovers and waiting-maids
+from the dominions of Rome and Tuscany. Written proofs are not to be
+expected of what took place in a time when writing was not in use; but I
+prove my assertion in this way: Pantaloon has always been a Venetian,
+the Doctor a Bolognese, and Brighella and Harlequin Bergamasks; and from
+these places, therefore, the comic personages called the four masks of
+the Italian comedy were taken by the players. What I say on this subject
+is not altogether the creature of my imagination; I possess a manuscript
+of the fifteenth century, in very good preservation and bound in
+parchment, containing a hundred and twenty subjects or sketches of
+Italian pieces, called comedies of art, and of which the basis of the
+comic humor is always Pantaloon, a Venetian merchant; the Doctor, a
+Bolognese jurisconsult; and Brighella and Harlequin, Bergamask
+valets,--the first clever and sprightly, and the other a mere dolt.
+Their antiquity and their long existence indicate their origin.
+
+With respect to their employment, Pantaloon and the Doctor, called by
+the Italians the two old men, represent the part of fathers, and the
+other parts where cloaks are worn. The first is a merchant, because
+Venice in its ancient times was the richest and most extensively
+commercial country of Italy. He has always preserved the ancient
+Venetian costume; the black dress and the woolen bonnet are still worn
+in Venice; and the red under-waistcoat and breeches, cut out like
+drawers, with red stockings and slippers, are a most exact
+representation of the equipment of the first inhabitants of the Adriatic
+marshes. The beard, which was considered as an ornament in those remote
+ages, has been caricatured and rendered ridiculous in subsequent
+periods.
+
+The second old man, called the Doctor, was taken from among the lawyers,
+for the sake of opposing a learned man to a merchant; and Bologna was
+selected because in that city there existed a university, which,
+notwithstanding the ignorance of the times, still preserved the offices
+and emoluments of the professors. In the dress of the Doctor we observe
+the ancient costume of the university and bar of Bologna, which is
+nearly the same at this day; and the idea of the singular mask which
+covers his face and nose was taken from a wine stain which disfigured
+the countenance of a jurisconsult in those times. This is a tradition
+still existing among the amateurs of the comedy of art.
+
+Brighella and Harlequin, called in Italy the two Zani, were taken from
+Bergamo; because, the former being a very sharp fellow and the other a
+stupid clown, these two extremes are only to be found among the lower
+orders of that part of the country. Brighella represents an intriguing,
+deceitful, and knavish valet. His dress is a species of livery; his
+swarthy mask is a caricature of the color of the inhabitants of those
+high mountains, tanned by the heat of the sun. Some comedians, in this
+character, have taken the name of Fenocchio, Fiqueto, and Scapin; but
+they have always represented the same valet and the same Bergamask. The
+harlequins have also assumed other names: they have been sometimes
+Tracagnins, Truffaldins, Gradelins, and Mezetins; but they have always
+been stupid Bergamasks. Their dress is an exact representation of that
+of a poor devil who has picked up pieces of stuffs of different colors
+to patch his dress; his hat corresponds with his mendicity, and the
+hare's tail with which it is ornamented is still common in the dress of
+the peasantry of Bergamo.
+
+I have thus, I trust, sufficiently demonstrated the origin and
+employment of the four masks of the Italian comedy; it now remains for
+me to mention the effects resulting from them. The mask must always be
+very prejudicial to the action of the performer, either in joy or
+sorrow: whether he be in love, cross, or good-humored, the same features
+are always exhibited; and however he may gesticulate and vary the tone,
+he can never convey by the countenance, which is the interpreter of the
+heart, the different passions with which he is inwardly agitated. The
+masks of the Greeks and Romans were a sort of speaking-trumpets,
+invented for the purpose of conveying the sound through the vast extent
+of their amphitheatres. Passion and sentiment were not in those times
+carried to the pitch of delicacy now actually necessary. The actor must
+in our days possess a soul; and the soul under a mask is like a fire
+under ashes. These were the reasons which induced me to endeavor the
+reform of the Italian theatre; and to supply the place of farces with
+comedies. But the complaints became louder and louder: I was disgusted
+with the two parties, and I endeavored to satisfy both; I undertook to
+produce a few pieces merely sketched, without ceasing to give comedies
+of character. I employed the masks in the former, and I displayed a more
+noble and interesting comic humor in the others: each participated in
+the species of pleasure with which they were most delighted; with time
+and patience I brought about a reconciliation between them; and I had
+the satisfaction at length to see myself authorized in following my own
+taste, which became in a few years the most general and prevailing in
+Italy. I willingly pardoned the partisans of the comedians with masks
+the injuries they laid to my charge; for they were very able amateurs,
+who had the merit of giving themselves an interest to sketched
+comedies.
+
+
+
+PURISTS AND PEDANTRY
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+My journey to Parma, and the pension and diploma conferred on me,
+excited the envy and rage of my adversaries. They had reported at Venice
+during my absence that I was dead; and there was a monk who had even the
+temerity to say he had been at my funeral. On arriving home safe and
+sound, the evil-disposed began to display their irritation at my good
+fortune. It was not the authors, my antagonists, who tormented me, but
+the partisans of the different theatres of Venice.
+
+I was defended by literary men, who entertained a favorable opinion of
+me; and this gave rise to a warfare in which I was very innocently the
+victim of the irritation which had been excited. My system has always
+been never to mention the names of my adversaries: but I cannot avoid
+expressing the honor which I feel in proclaiming those of my advocates.
+Father Roberti, a Jesuit, at present the Abbe Roberti, one of the most
+illustrious poets of the suppressed society, published a poem in blank
+verse, entitled 'Comedy'; and by dwelling on the reformation effected by
+me, and analyzing several scenes in my pieces, he encouraged his
+countrymen and mine to follow the example and the system of the Venetian
+author. Count Verri, a Milanese, followed the Abbe Roberti.... Other
+patricians of Venice wrote in my favor, on account of the disputes which
+were every day growing warmer and warmer.... Every day witnessed some
+new composition for or against me; but I had this advantage,--that those
+who interested themselves for me, from their manners, their talents, and
+their reputation, were among the most prudent and distinguished men in
+Italy.
+
+One of the articles for which I was most keenly attacked was a violation
+of the purity of the language. I was a Venetian, and I had had the
+disadvantage of sucking in with my mother's milk the use of a very
+agreeable and seductive patois, which however was not Tuscan. I learned
+by principle, and cultivated by reading, the language of the good
+Italian authors; but first impressions will return at times,
+notwithstanding every attention used in avoiding them. I had undertaken
+a journey into Tuscany, where I remained for four years, with the view
+of becoming familiar with the language; and I printed the first edition
+of my works at Florence, under the eyes and the criticism of the
+learned of that place, that I might purify them from errors of language.
+All my precautions were insufficient to satisfy the rigorists: I always
+failed in one thing or other; and I was perpetually reproached with the
+original sin of Venetianism.
+
+Amidst all this tedious trifling, I recollected one day that Tasso had
+been worried his whole lifetime by the Academicians della Crusca, who
+maintained that his 'Jerusalem Delivered' had not passed through the
+sieve which is the emblem of their society. I was then in my closet, and
+I turned my eyes towards the twelve quarto volumes of the works of that
+author, and exclaimed, "Oh heavens! must no one write in the Italian
+language who has not been born in Tuscany?" I turned up mechanically the
+five volumes of the Dictionary della Crusca, where I found more than six
+hundred words, and a number of expressions, approved of by the academy
+and rejected by the world; I ran over several ancient authors considered
+as classical, whom it would be impossible to imitate in the present day
+without censure; and I came to this conclusion--that we must write in
+good Italian, but write at the same time so as to be understood in every
+corner of Italy. Tasso was therefore wrong in reforming his poem to
+please the Academicians della Crusca: his 'Jerusalem Delivered' is read
+by everybody, while nobody thinks of reading his 'Jerusalem Conquered.'
+
+
+
+A POET'S OLD AGE
+
+From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
+
+
+I return to my regimen,--you will say here also, perhaps, that I ought
+to omit it: you are in the right; but all this is in my head, and I must
+be delivered of it by degrees; I cannot spare you a single comma. After
+dinner I am not fond of either working or walking. Sometimes I go to the
+theatre, but I am most generally in parties till nine o'clock in the
+evening. I always return before ten o'clock. I take two or three small
+cakes with a glass of wine and water, and this is the whole of my
+supper. I converse with my wife till midnight; I very soon fall asleep,
+and pass the night tranquilly.
+
+It sometimes happens to me, as well as every other person, to have my
+head occupied with something capable of retarding my sleep. In this
+case I have a certain remedy to lull myself asleep, and it is this: I
+had long projected a vocabulary of the Venetian dialect, and I had even
+communicated my intention to the public, who are still in expectation of
+it. While laboring at this tedious and disgusting work, I soon
+discovered that it threw me asleep. I laid it therefore aside, and I
+profited by its narcotic faculty. Whenever I feel my mind agitated by
+any moral cause, I take at random some word of my national language and
+translate it into Tuscan and French. In the same manner I pass in review
+all the words which follow in the alphabetical order, and I am sure to
+fall asleep at the third or fourth version. My recipe has never once
+failed me. It is not difficult to demonstrate the cause and effect of
+this phenomenon. A painful idea requires to be replaced by an opposite
+or indifferent idea; and the agitation of the mind once calmed, the
+senses become tranquil and are deadened by sleep.
+
+But this remedy, however excellent, might not be useful to every one. A
+man of too keen and feeling a disposition would not succeed. The
+temperament must be such as that with which nature has favored me. My
+moral qualities bear a resemblance to my physical: I dread neither cold
+nor heat, and I neither allow myself to be inflamed by rage nor
+intoxicated by joy....
+
+I am now arrived at the year 1787, which is the eightieth of my age, and
+that to which I have limited the course of my Memoirs. I have completed
+my eightieth year; my work is also finished. All is over, and I proceed
+to send my volumes to the press. This last chapter does not therefore
+touch on the events of the current year; but I have still some duties to
+discharge. I must begin with returning thanks to those persons who have
+reposed so much confidence in me as to honor me with their
+subscriptions.
+
+I do not speak of the kindness and favors of the King and court; this is
+not the place to mention them. I have named in my work some of my
+friends and even some of my protectors. I beg pardon of them: if I have
+done so without their permission, it is not through vanity; the occasion
+has suggested it; their names have dropped from my pen, the heart has
+seized on the instant, and the hand has not been unwilling. For example,
+the following is one of the fortunate occasions I allude to. I was
+unwell a few days ago; the Count Alfieri did me the honor to call on me;
+I knew his talents, but his conversation impressed on me the wrong
+which I should have done in omitting him. He is a very intelligent and
+learned literary man, who principally excels in the art of Sophocles and
+Euripides, and after these great models he has framed his tragedies.
+They have gone through two editions in Italy, and are at present in the
+press of Didot at Paris. I shall enter into no details respecting them,
+as they may be seen and judged of by every one.
+
+During my convalescence M. Caccia, a banker in Paris, my friend and
+countryman, sent me a book addressed to him from Italy for me. It was a
+collection of French epigrams and madrigals, translated into Italian by
+the Count Roncali, of the city of Brescia in the Venetian dominions.
+This charming poet has merely translated the thoughts; he has said the
+same things in fewer words, and he has fallen upon as brilliant and
+striking points in his own language as those of his originals.
+
+I had the honor of seeing M. Roncali twelve years ago at Paris, and he
+allows me to hope that I shall have the good fortune to see him again.
+This is infinitely flattering to me; but I earnestly entreat him to make
+haste, as my career is far advanced, and what is still worse, I am
+extremely fatigued. I have undertaken too long and too laborious a work
+for my age, and I have employed three years on it, always dreading lest
+I should not have the pleasure of seeing it finished. However, I am
+still in life, thanks to God, and I flatter myself that I shall see my
+volumes printed, distributed, and read. If they be not praised, I hope
+at least they will not be despised. I shall not be accused of vanity or
+presumption in daring to hope for some share of favor for my Memoirs;
+for had I thought that I should absolutely displease, I would not have
+taken so much pains; and if in the good and ill which I say of myself,
+the balance inclines to the favorable side, I owe more to nature than to
+study. All the application employed by me in the construction of my
+pieces has been that of not disfiguring nature, and all the care taken
+by me in my Memoirs has been that of telling only the truth. The
+criticism of my pieces may have the correction and improvement of comedy
+in view; but the criticism of my Memoirs will be of no advantage to
+literature. However, if any writer should think proper to employ his
+time on me for the sole purpose of vexing me, he would lose his labor.
+I am of a pacific disposition; I have always preserved my coolness of
+character; at my age I read little, and I read only amusing books.
+
+
+
+THE CAFE
+
+    [A few of the opening scenes from one of the popular Venetian
+    comedies are here given with occasional abridgment. They
+    illustrate the entirely practical theatrical skill of Goldoni's
+    plots, his rapid development of his characters, and the sound
+    morality which prevails without being aggressively prominent.
+
+    The permanent scene represents a small open square in Venice, or
+    a rather wide street, with three shops. The middle one is in use
+    as a cafe. To the right is a barber's. The one on the left is a
+    gambling-house. Beyond the barber's, across a street, is seen
+    the dancers' house, and beyond the gamblers' a hotel with
+    practicable doors and windows.]
+
+
+    Ridolfo, _master of the cafe_, Trappolo, _a waiter, and other
+    waiters_
+
+_Ridolfo_--Come, children, look alive, be wide awake, ready to serve the
+guests civilly and properly.
+
+_Trappolo_--Master dear, to tell you the truth, this early rising
+doesn't suit my complexion a bit. There's no one in sight. We could have
+slept another hour yet.
+
+_Ridolfo_--They'll be coming presently. Besides, 'tis not so very early.
+Don't you see? The barber is open, he's in his shop working on hair. And
+look! the playing-house is open too.
+
+_Trappolo_--Oh, yes, indeed. The gambling-house has been open a good
+bit. They've made a night of it.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Good. Master Pandolfo will have had a good profit.
+
+_Trappolo_--That dog always has good profit. He wins on the cards, he
+profits by usury, he shares with the sharpers. He is sure of all the
+money of whoever enters there. That poor Signor Eugenio--he has taken a
+header!
+
+_Ridolfo_--Just look at him, how little sense he has! With a wife, a
+young woman of grace and sense,--but he runs after every petticoat; and
+then he plays like a madman. But come, go roast the coffee and make a
+fresh supply.
+
+_Trappolo_--Shan't I warm over yesterday's supply?
+
+_Ridolfo_--No, make it good.
+
+_Trappolo_--Master has a short memory. How long since this shop opened?
+
+_Ridolfo_--You know very well. 'Tis about eight months.
+
+_Trappolo_--Then 'tis time for a change.
+
+_Ridolfo_--What do you mean by that?
+
+_Trappolo_--When a new shop opens, they make perfect coffee. After six
+months,--hot water, thin broth. [_Exit._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--He's a wit. I'm in hopes he'll help the shop. To a shop where
+there's a fun-maker every one goes.
+
+    Pandolfo, _keeper of the gambling-house, comes in, rubbing his
+    eyes sleepily_
+
+_Ridolfo_--Master Pandolfo, will you have coffee?
+
+_Pandolfo_--Yes, if you please.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Boys, serve coffee for Master Pandolfo. Be seated. Make
+yourself comfortable.
+
+_Pandolfo_--No, no, I must drink it at once and get back to work.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Are they playing yet in the shop?
+
+_Pandolfo_--They are busy at two tables.
+
+_Ridolfo_--So early?
+
+_Pandolfo_--They are at it since yesterday.
+
+_Ridolfo_--What game?
+
+_Pandolfo_--An innocent game: "first and second" [_i.e._, faro].
+
+_Ridolfo_--And how does it go?
+
+_Pandolfo_--For me it goes well.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Have you amused yourself playing too?
+
+_Pandolfo_--Yes, I took a little hand also.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Excuse me, my friend; I've no business to meddle in your
+affairs, but--it doesn't look well when the master of the shop plays;
+because if he loses he's laughed at, and if he wins he's suspected.
+
+_Pandolfo_--I am content if they haven't the laugh on me. As for the
+rest, let them suspect as they please; I pay no attention.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Dear friend, we are neighbors; I shouldn't want you to get
+into trouble. You know, by your play before you have brought up in the
+court.
+
+_Pandolfo_--I'm easily satisfied. I won a pair of sequins, and wanted no
+more.
+
+_Ridolfo_--That's right. Pluck the quail without making it cry out. From
+whom did you win them?
+
+_Pandolfo_--A jeweler's boy.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Bad. Very bad. That tempts the boys to rob their masters.
+
+_Pandolfo_--Oh, don't moralize to me. Let the greenhorns stay at home. I
+keep open for any one who wants to play.
+
+_Ridolfo_--And has Signor Eugenio been playing this past night?
+
+_Pandolfo_--He's playing yet. He hasn't dined, he hasn't slept, and he's
+lost all his money.
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--Poor young man! [_Aloud._] And how much has he
+lost?
+
+_Pandolfo_--A hundred sequins in cash: and now he is playing on credit.
+
+_Ridolfo_--With whom is he playing?
+
+_Pandolfo_--With the count.
+
+_Ridolfo_--And whom else?
+
+_Pandolfo_--With him alone.
+
+_Ridolfo_--It seems to me an honest man shouldn't stand by and see
+people assassinated.
+
+_Pandolfo_--Oho, my friend, if you're going to be so thin-skinned you'll
+make little money.
+
+_Ridolfo_--I don't care for that. Till now I have been in service, and
+did my duty honestly. I saved a few pennies, and with the help of my old
+master, who was Signor Eugenio's father, you know, I have opened this
+shop. With it I mean to live honorably and not disgrace my profession.
+
+     [_People from the gambling-shop call "Cards!"_]
+
+_Pandolfo_ [_answering_]--At your service.
+
+_Ridolfo_--For mercy's sake, get poor Signor Eugenio away from the
+table.
+
+_Pandolfo_--For all me, he may lose his shirt: I don't care. [_Starts
+out._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--And the coffee--shall I charge it?
+
+_Pandolfo_--Not at all: we'll deal a card for it.
+
+_Ridolfo_--I'm no greenhorn, my friend.
+
+_Pandolfo_--Oh well, what does it matter? You know my visitors make
+trade for you. I am surprised that you trouble yourself about these
+little matters. [_Exit._] ...
+
+     _A gentleman,_ Don Marzio, _enters_
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--Here is the man who never stops talking, and always
+must have it his own way.
+
+_Marzio_--Coffee.
+
+_Ridolfo_--At once, sir.
+
+_Marzio_--What's the news, Ridolfo?
+
+_Ridolfo_--I couldn't say, sir.
+
+_Marzio_--Has no one appeared here at your cafe yet?
+
+_Ridolfo_--'Tis quite early still.
+
+_Marzio_--Early? It has struck nine already.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Oh no, honored sir, 'tis not seven yet.
+
+_Marzio_--Get away with your nonsense.
+
+_Ridolfo_--I assure you, it hasn't struck seven yet.
+
+_Marzio_--Get out, stupid.
+
+_Ridolfo_--You abuse me without reason, sir.
+
+_Marzio_--I counted the strokes just now, and I tell you it is nine.
+Besides, look at my watch: it never goes wrong. [_Shows it._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--Very well, then; if your watch is never wrong,--it says a
+quarter to seven.
+
+_Marzio_--What? That can't be. [_Takes out his eye-glass and looks._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--What do you say?
+
+_Marzio_--My watch is wrong. It is nine o'olock. I heard it.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Where did you buy that watch?
+
+_Marzio_--I ordered it from London.
+
+_Ridolfo_--They cheated you.
+
+_Marzio_--Cheated me? How so? It is the very first quality.
+
+_Ridolfo_--If it were a good one, it wouldn't be two hours wrong.
+
+_Marzio_--It is always exactly right.
+
+_Ridolfo_--But the watch says a quarter to seven, and you say it is
+nine.
+
+_Marzio_--My watch is right.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Then it really is a little before seven, as I said.
+
+_Marzio_---You're an insolent fellow. My watch is right: you talk
+foolishly, and I've half a mind to box your ears. [_His coffee is
+brought._]
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--Oh, what a beast!
+
+_Marzio_--Have you seen Signor Eugenio?
+
+_Ridolfo_--No, honored sir.
+
+_Marzio_--At home, of course, petting his wife. What an uxorious fellow!
+Always a wife! Always a wife! [_Drinks his coffee._]
+
+_Ridolfo_--Anything but his wife. He's been gambling all night at
+Pandolfo's.
+
+_Marzio_--Just as I tell you. Always gambling.
+
+_Ridolfo_ [_aside_]--"Always gambling," "Always his wife," "Always" the
+Devil; I hope he'll catch him!
+
+_Marzio_--He came to me the other day in all secrecy, to beg me to lend
+him ten sequins on a pair of earrings of his wife's.
+
+_Ridolfo_--Well, you know, every man is liable to have these little
+difficulties; but they don't care to have them known, and that is
+doubtless why he came to you, certain that you would tell no one.
+
+_Marzio_--Oh, I say nothing. I help all, and take no credit for it. See!
+Here are his wife's earrings. I lent him ten sequins on them. Do you
+think I am secured?
+
+_Ridolfo_--I'm no judge, but I think so.
+
+_Marzio_--Halloa, Trappolo. [_Trappolo enters._] Here; go to the
+jeweler's yonder, show him these earrings of Signor Eugenio's wife, and
+ask him for me if they are security for ten sequins that I lent him.
+
+_Trappolo_--And it doesn't harm Signor Eugenio to make his affairs
+public?
+
+_Marzio_--I am a person with whom a secret is safe. [_Exit Trappolo._]
+Say, Ridolfo, what do you know of that dancer over there?
+
+_Ridolfo_--I really know nothing about her.
+
+_Marzio_--I've been told the Count Leandro is her protector.
+
+_Ridolfo_--To be frank, I don't care much for other people's affairs.
+
+_Marzio_--But 'tis well to know things, to govern one's self
+accordingly. She has been under his protection for some time now, and
+the dancer's earnings have paid the price of the protection. Instead of
+spending anything, he devours all the poor wretch has. Indeed, he forces
+her to do what she should not. Oh, what a villain!
+
+_Ridolfo_--But I am here all day, and I can swear that no one goes to
+her house except Leandro.
+
+_Marzio_--It has a back door. Fool! Fool! Always the back door. Fool!
+
+_Ridolfo_--I attend to my shop: if she has a back door, what is it to
+me? I put my nose into no one's affairs.
+
+_Marzio_--Beast! Do you speak like that to a gentleman of my station?
+
+     [This character of Don Marzio the slanderer is the most
+     effective one in the comedy. He finally brings upon himself
+     the bitterest ill-will of all the other characters, and feels
+     himself driven out of Venice, "a land in which all men live
+     at ease, all enjoy liberty, peace, and amusement, if only
+     they know how to be prudent, discreet, honorable."]
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by William C. Lawton
+
+
+
+
+MEIR AARON GOLDSCHMIDT
+
+(1819-1887)
+
+[Illustration: GOLDSCHMIDT]
+
+
+In the first line of his memoirs Goldschmidt states that he was of "the
+tribe of Levi," a fact of which he was never unconscious, and which has
+given him his peculiar position in modern Danish literature as the
+exponent of the family and social life of the orthodox Jew. Brandes
+writes of Goldschmidt that: "In spite of his cosmopolitan spirit, he has
+always loved two nationalities above all others and equally well,--the
+Jewish and the Danish. He has looked upon himself as a sort of
+noble-born bastard; and with the bat of the fable he has said
+alternately to the mice, 'I am a mouse' and to the birds, 'I have
+wings.' He has endeavored to give his answer to the questions of the
+Jew's place in modern culture."
+
+Goldschmidt was born on the 26th of October, 1819. His early childhood
+was spent partly in the country, in the full freedom of country life,
+and partly in the city, where he was sent to school in preparation for
+the professional career his father had planned for him, in preference to
+a business life like his own. Goldschmidt took part in the religious
+instruction of the school, at the same time observing the customs of the
+Jewish ritual at home without a full understanding of its
+meaning,--somewhat as he was taught to read Hebrew without being able to
+translate a word of it into Danish. In the senior class his religious
+instructor let him join in the Bible reading, but refused to admit him
+to the catechism class; as a consequence he failed to answer a few
+questions on his examination papers, and fell just short of a maximum.
+This made him feel that he was ostracized by his Jewish birth, and put
+an end to his desire for further academic studies.
+
+At the age of eighteen he began his journalistic career as editor of a
+provincial paper, the care of which cost him a lawsuit and subjected him
+to a year's censorship. Soon after, he sold the paper for two hundred
+dollars, and with this money he started the Copenhagen weekly The
+Corsair, which in no time gained a large reading public, and whose
+Friday appearance was awaited with weekly increasing interest. The
+editorials were given up to aesthetic and poetic discussions, and the
+small matter treated the questions of the day with a pointed wit that
+soon made The Corsair as widely feared as it was eagerly read. He had
+reached only the third number when it was put under censorship, and
+lawsuits followed in quick succession. Goldschmidt did not officially
+assume the responsibility of editor, although it was an open secret that
+he was author of most of the articles; publicly the blows were warded
+off by pretended owners whose names were often changed. One of the few
+men whom The Corsair left unattacked was Soeren Kierkegaard, for whose
+literary and scholarly talents Goldschmidt had great respect. That The
+Corsair was under the ban of the law, so to speak, and had brought him
+even a four-days' imprisonment, was a small matter to Goldschmidt; but
+when Kierkegaard passed a scathing moral judgment on the paper,
+Goldschmidt sold out for four thousand dollars and started with this sum
+on his travels, "to get rid of wit and learn something better."
+
+In 1847 he was again back in Copenhagen, and began life anew as editor
+of North and South, a weekly containing excellent aesthetic and critical
+studies, but mainly important on account of its social and political
+influence. Already, in the time of The Corsair, Goldschmidt had begun
+his work as novelist with 'A Jew,' written in 1843-45, and had taken
+possession of the field which became his own. It was a promising book,
+that met with immediate appreciation. Even Kierkegaard forgot for a
+moment the editor of The Corsair in his praise. The Jews, however,
+looked upon the descriptions of intimate Jewish family life somewhat as
+a desecration of the Holy of Holies; and if broad-minded enough to
+forgive this, thought it unwise to accentuate the Jew's position as an
+element apart in social life. It argues a certain narrowness in
+Goldschmidt that he has never been able to refrain from striking this
+note, and Brandes blames him for the bad taste of "continually serving
+his grandmother with sharp sauce."
+
+Goldschmidt wrote another long novel, 'Homeless'; but it is principally
+in his shorter works, such as 'Love Stories from Many Countries'
+'Maser,' and 'Avromche Nightingale,' that he has left a great and good
+gift to Danish literature. The shorter his composition, the more perfect
+was his treatment. He was above all a stylist.
+
+He always had a tendency to mysticism, and in his last years he was
+greatly taken up with his theory of Nemesis, on which he wrote a book,
+containing much that is suggestive but also much that is obviously the
+result of the wish to make everything conform to a pet theory. His
+lasting importance will be as the first and foremost influence on modern
+Danish prose.
+
+
+
+ASSAR AND MIRJAM
+
+From 'Love Stories from Many Countries'
+
+
+Assar, son of Juda, a valiant and jealous youth, came walking toward
+Modin, when from one of the hills he saw a great sight on the plain.
+Here warriors rode a chariot race in a great circle; many people stood
+about, calling loudly to the drivers and the spirited horses. Yonder
+were horsemen in golden armor, trying to catch rings on their spears;
+and drums were beaten in honor of the winner. On the outskirts of the
+plain was a little grove of olive-trees; it was not dense. In the grove
+stood a nude woman hewn in marble; her hair was of gold and her eyes
+were black, and young girls danced around her with garlands of flowers.
+
+Then Assar said:--"Woe unto us! These are Jewish maidens dancing around
+the idol, and these are Greek men carrying arms on our holy ground and
+playing at games as if they were in their home! and no Jewish man makes
+the game dangerous for them!"
+
+He went down the hill and came to a thicket reaching down to a little
+brook. On the other side of the brook stood a Greek centurion, a young
+man, and he was talking to a girl, who stood on this side of the brook
+on the edge of the thicket.
+
+The warrior said:--"Thou sayest that thy God forbids thee to go over
+into the grove. What a dark and unfriendly God they have given thee,
+beautiful child of Juda! He hates thy youth, and the joy of life, and
+the roses which ought to crown thy black hair. My gods are of a
+friendlier mind toward mortals. Every morning Apollo drives his glorious
+span over the arch of the heavens and lights warriors to their deeds;
+Selene's milder torch glows at night for lovers, and to those who have
+worshiped her in this life beautiful Aphrodite gives eternal life on her
+blessed isle. It is her statue standing in the grove. When thou givest
+thyself under her protection she gives thee in return a hero for thy
+faithful lover, and later on, graceful daughter of Juda, some god will
+set thee with thy radiant eyes among the stars, to be a light to mortals
+and a witness of the beauty of earthly love."
+
+The young girl might have answered; but at this moment Assar was near
+her, and she knew him, and he saw that it was Mirjam, Rabbi Mattathew's
+daughter,--the woman he loved, and who was his promised bride. She
+turned and followed him; but the warrior on the other side of the brook
+called out, "What right hast thou to lead this maiden away?"
+
+Assar replied, "I have no right."
+
+"Then why dost thou go with him, sweet daughter of Juda?" cried the
+warrior.
+
+Mirjam did not answer, but Assar said, "Because she has not yet given up
+serving her Master."
+
+"Who is her master?" asked the warrior. "I can buy thee freedom, my
+beautiful child!"
+
+Assar replied, "I wish thou may'st see him."[E]
+
+    [E] "Whoever sees God must die."
+
+The warrior, who could not cross the brook at this place, or anywhere
+near it, called as they went away, "Tell me thy master's name!"
+
+Assar turned and answered, "I will beg him come to thee."
+
+A hill hid them from the eyes of the warrior, and Mirjam said, "Assar!"
+
+Assar replied, "Mirjam! I have never loved thee as dearly as I do
+to-day--I do not know if it is a curse or a blessing which is in my
+veins. Thou hast listened to the words of the heathen."
+
+"I listened to them because he spoke kindly; but I have not betrayed the
+Lord nor thee."
+
+"Thou hast permitted his words to reach thy ear and thy soul."
+
+"What could I do, Assar? He spoke kindly."
+
+Assar stood still, and said to himself, "Yes, he spoke kindly. They do
+speak kindly. And they spoke kind words to the poor girls who danced
+around the idol in the grove. Had they spoken harsh and threatening
+words, they would not have danced."
+
+Again he stood still, and said to himself, "If they came using force,
+the rabbi would kill her and then himself, or she would throw herself
+from a rock of her own free will. But who can set a guard to watch over
+kind words?"
+
+The third time he stood still, and said, "O Israel, thou canst not bear
+kind words!"
+
+Mirjam thought that he suspected her; and she stood still and said, "I
+am a rabbi's daughter!"
+
+Assar replied, "O Mirjam, I am Assar, and I will be the son of my own
+actions."
+
+"For God's sake," exclaimed Mirjam, "do not seek that warrior, and do
+not enter into a quarrel with him! He will kill thee or have thee put
+into prison. There is misery enough in Israel! The strangers have
+entered our towns. Let us bend our heads and await the will of God, but
+not challenge! Assar, I should die if anything happened to thee!"
+
+"And what would I do if anything happened to thee! My head swims!
+Whither should I flee? Would thy father and thy brothers flee to the
+wilds of the mountains?"
+
+"They have spoken of that. But there is no place to flee to and not much
+to flee from; for although the heathen have taken gold and goods, yet
+they are kind this time."
+
+Assar replied, "Oh yes, they are kind; I had almost forgotten it.
+Mirjam, if I go away wilt thou believe, and go on believing, that I go
+on God's errand?"
+
+"Assar, a dark look from thee is dearer to me than the kindest from any
+heathen, and a word of thine is more to me than many witnesses. But do
+not leave me! Stay and protect me!"
+
+"I go to protect thee! I go to the heights and to the depths to call
+forth the God of Israel. Await his coming!" ...
+
+Assar went to the King, Antiochus Epiphanes, bent low before him, and
+said, "May the Master of the world guide thy steps!"
+
+The King looked at him well pleased, and asked his name; whereupon Assar
+answered that he was a man of the tribe of Juda.
+
+The King said, "Few of thy countrymen come to serve me!"
+
+Assar replied, "If thou wilt permit thy servant a bold word, King, the
+fault is thine."
+
+And when the King, astonished, asked how this might be, Assar answered,
+"Because thou art too kind, lord."
+
+The King turned to his adviser, and said laughingly, "When we took the
+treasures of the temple in Jerusalem, they found it hard enough."
+
+"O King," said Assar, "silver and gold and precious stones can be
+regained, and the Israelites know this; but thou lettest them keep that
+which cannot be regained when once it is lost."
+
+The King answered quickly, "What is that?" and Assar replied:--"The
+Israelites have a God, who is very powerful but also very jealous. He
+has always helped them in the time of need if they held near to him and
+did not worship strange gods; for this his jealousy will not bear. When
+they do this he forsakes them. But thou, O King, hast taken their
+silver and gold and jewels, but hast let them keep the God who gives it
+all back to them. They know this; and so they smile at thee, and await
+that thou shalt be thrown into the dust by him, and they will arise his
+avengers, and persecute thy men."
+
+The King paled; he remembered his loss in Egypt, and he feared that if
+the enemy pursued him he should find help in Israel; and he said, "What
+ought we to do?"
+
+Assar replied: "If thou wilt permit thy servant to utter his humble
+advice, thou shouldst use severity and forbid their praying to the God
+they call Jehovah, and order them to pray to thy gods."
+
+The King's adviser looked at Assar and asked, "Hast thou offered up
+sacrifice to our gods?"
+
+Assar replied, "I am ready."
+
+They led him to the altar, and on the way thither Assar said:--"Lord,
+all-powerful God! Thou who seest the heart and not alone the deeds of
+the hand, be my witness! It is written: 'And it shall happen in that
+same hour that I shall wipe out the name of idols out of the land, and
+they shall be remembered no more, and the unclean spirit shall I cause
+to depart from the country.' Do thou according to thy word, O Lord!
+Amen!"
+
+When the sacrifice was brought, Assar was dressed in festive robes on
+the word of the King, and a place was given him among the King's
+friends, and orders were sent out throughout the country, according to
+what he had said.
+
+And to Modin too came the King's messenger; and when the rabbi heard of
+it, he went with his five sons to the large prayer-house, and read
+maledictions over those who worshiped idols and blessings over those who
+were faithful to Jehovah. And those who were present noticed that the
+rabbi's eldest son, Judas Maccabaeus, carried a sword under his mantle.
+
+And when they came out of the prayer-house they saw that a heathen altar
+had been built, and there was a Jew making his sacrifice; and when Rabbi
+Mattathew saw this, he hastened to the spot and seized the knife of
+sacrifice and thrust it into the Jew's breast. The centurion who stood
+by, and who was the same that had previously talked to Mirjam the
+rabbi's daughter at the brook, would kill the rabbi; but Judas Maccabaeus
+drew his sword quickly, and struck the centurion in the throat and
+killed him. Then the King's men gathered; but the street was narrow,
+and Judas Maccabaeus went last and shielded all, until the night came and
+they had got their women together and could flee to the mountains. And
+then began the fight of the men of Juda against the Macedonians, the
+Greeks, and the Assyrians, and they killed those of the King's men who
+pursued them into the mountains.
+
+Then King Antiochus the temple-robber said to Assar, "This is thy
+advice!" to which Assar replied: "No, King; this is the advice of thy
+warriors, since they allow the rebels to escape and do not treat them
+without mercy. For this know, O King, that so long as thou art merciful
+to this people there is no hope."
+
+Then there were issued strict orders to torture and kill all who refused
+to obey the King's command; and all those in Israel in whom Jehovah was
+still living rose to fight with Mattathew and his sons, and men and
+women, yea, children even, were moved to suffer death for the Lord and
+his law.
+
+But at this time it happened that King Antiochus the temple-destroyer
+was visited by his shameful disease, and he sent messengers with rich
+gifts to all oracles and temples to seek help; but they could find none.
+
+Then he said to Assar, "Thou saidst once that the God of Israel was a
+mighty God; could not _he_ cure me of my disease?"
+
+Assar replied: "I have indeed heard from my childhood that the God of
+Israel is a mighty God; but O King, thou wilt not give in to that hard
+people and make peace with their God?"
+
+The King answered, "I must live! How can he be pacified?"
+
+Assar said, "It is too heavy a sacrifice for so great a king as thee.
+Their wise men assert that God has given them the country for a
+possession, and it would be necessary for thee not only to allow them to
+worship their God, but also to call back thy men and make a covenant
+with them so that they should merely pay a tribute to thee. But this is
+more than I can advise."
+
+The King answered, "Much does a man give for his life. Dost thou believe
+that he is a great God?"
+
+"I have seen a great proof of it, lord."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"This: that even a greatness like thine was as nothing to his."
+
+"It is not a dishonor to be smaller than the Immortals. Go and prepare
+all, according to what we have spoken."
+
+Then Assar prepared all and had the King's men called back, and promised
+the inhabitants peace and led the King on his way to Jerusalem; and they
+passed by Modin.
+
+And the King's sufferings being very great, he had himself carried into
+the house of prayers, before the holy, and he prayed to the God of
+Israel. And the men of Juda stood around him; they stood high and he lay
+low, and they had saved their souls.
+
+But when the King was carried out, one of the Maccabaean warriors
+recognized Assar and cried out, "Thou hast offered up sacrifices to
+idols, and from thee have come the evil counsels which have cost
+precious blood! Thou shalt be wiped off the earth!"
+
+He drew his sword and aimed at him, but Mirjam, who had come up, threw
+herself between them with the cry, "He called forth Israel's God!" And
+the steel which was meant for him pierced her.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by Olga Flinch.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: O. GOLDSMITH.]
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH
+
+(1728-1774)
+
+BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY
+
+
+Oliver Goldsmith was born at Pallas, County Longford, Ireland, November
+10th, 1728. That was the year in which Pope issued his 'Dunciad,' Gay
+his 'Beggar's Opera,' and Thomson his 'Spring.' Goldsmith's father was a
+clergyman of the Established Church. In 1730 the family removed to
+Lissoy, a better living than that of Pallas. Oliver's school days in and
+around Westmeath were unsatisfactory; so also his course at Trinity,
+1744 to 1749. For the next two years he loafed at Ballymahon, living on
+his mother, then a widow, and making vain attempts to take orders, to
+teach, to enter a law course, to sail for America. He was a bad
+sixpence. Finally his uncle Contarine, who saw good stuff in the
+awkward, ugly, humorous, and reckless youth, got him off to Edinburgh,
+where he studied medicine till 1754.
+
+In 1754 he is studying, or pretending to study, at Leyden. In 1755 and
+1756 he is singing, fluting, and otherwise "beating" his way through
+Europe, whence he returns with a mythical M. B. degree. From 1756 to
+1759 he is in London, teaching, serving an apothecary, practicing
+medicine, reading proof, writing as a hack, planning to practice surgery
+in Coromandel, failing to qualify as a hospital mate, and in general
+only not starving. In 1759 Dr. Percy finds him in Green Arbor Court amid
+a colony of washerwomen, writing an 'Enquiry into the Present State of
+Polite Learning in Europe.' Next follows the appearance of that work,
+and his acquaintance with publishers and men of letters. In 1761, with
+Percy, comes Johnson to visit him. In 1764 Goldsmith is one of the
+members of the famous Literary Club, where he counts among his friends,
+besides Percy and Johnson, Reynolds, Boswell, Garrick, Burke, and others
+who shone with their own or reflected light. The rest of his life, spent
+principally in or near London, is associated with his literary career.
+He died April 4th, 1774, and was buried near the Temple Church.
+
+Goldsmith was an essayist and critic, a story-writer, a poet, a comic
+dramatist, and a literary drudge: the last all the time, the others
+"between whiles." His drudgery produced such works as the 'Memoirs of
+Voltaire,' the 'Life of Nash,' two Histories of England, Histories of
+Rome and Greece, Lives of Parnell and Bolingbroke. The 'History of
+Animated Nature' was undertaken as an industry, but it reads, as Johnson
+said, "like a Persian tale,"--and of course, the more Persian the less
+like nature. For the prose of Goldsmith writing for a suit of clothes or
+for immortality is all of a piece, inimitable. "Nothing," says he, in
+his 'Essay on Taste,' "has been so often explained, and yet so little
+understood, as simplicity in writing.... It is no other than beautiful
+nature, without affectation or extraneous ornament."
+
+This ingenuous elegance is the accent of Goldsmith's work in verse and
+prose. It is nature improved, not from without but by exquisite and
+esoteric art, the better to prove its innate virtue and display its
+artless charm. Such a style is based upon a delicate "sensibility to the
+graces of natural and moral beauty and decorum." Hence the ideographic
+power, the directness, the sympathy, the lambent humor that characterize
+the 'Essays,' the 'Vicar,' the 'Deserted Village,' and 'She Stoops to
+Conquer.' This is the "plain language of ancient faith and sincerity"
+that, pretending to no novelty, renovated the prose of the eighteenth
+century, knocked the stilts from under Addison and Steele, tipped half
+the Latinity out of Johnson, and readjusted his ballast. Goldsmith goes
+without sprawling or tiptoeing; he sails without rolling. He borrows the
+carelessness but not the ostentation of the Spectator; the dignity but
+not the ponderosity of 'Rasselas'; and produces the prose of natural
+ease, the sweetest English of the century. It in turn prefaced the way
+for Charles Lamb, Hunt, and Sydney Smith. "It were to be wished that we
+no longer found pleasure with the inflated style," writes Goldsmith in
+his 'Polite Learning.' "We should dispense with loaded epithet and
+dressing up trifles with dignity.... Let us, instead of writing finely,
+try to write naturally; not hunt after lofty expressions to deliver mean
+ideas, nor be forever gaping when we only mean to deliver a whisper."
+
+Just this naturalness constitutes the charm of the essay on 'The Bee'
+(1759), and of the essays collected in 1765. We do not read him for
+information: whether he knows more or less of his subject, whether he
+writes of Charles XII., or Dress, The Opera, Poetry, or Education, we
+read him for simplicity and humor. Still, his critical estimates, while
+they may not always square with ours, evince not only good sense and
+aesthetic principle, but a range of reading not at all ordinary. When he
+condemns Hamlet's great soliloquy we may smile, but in judicial respect
+for the father of our drama he yields to none of his contemporaries. The
+selections that he includes in his 'Beauties of English Poetry' would
+argue a conventional taste; but in his 'Essay on Poetry Distinguished
+from the Other Arts,' he not only defines poetry in terms that might
+content the Wordsworthians, he also to a certain extent anticipates
+Wordsworth's estimate of poetic figures.
+
+While he makes no violent breach with the classical school, he
+prophesies the critical doctrine of the nineteenth century. He calls for
+the "energetic language of simple nature, which is now grown into
+disrepute." "If the production does not keep nature in view, it will be
+destitute of truth and probability, without which the beauties of
+imitation cannot subsist." Still he by no means falls into the quagmire
+of realism. For, continues he, "if on the other hand the imitation is so
+close as to be mistaken for nature, the pleasure will then cease,
+because the [Greek: mimesis] or imitation, no longer appears."
+
+Even when wrong, Goldsmith is generally half-way right; and this is
+especially true of the critical judgments contained in his first
+published book. The impudence of 'The Enquiry' (1759) is delicious. What
+this young Irishman, fluting it through Europe some five years before,
+had _not_ learned about the 'Condition of Polite Learning' in its
+principal countries, might fill a ponderous folio. What he did learn,
+eked out with harmless misstatement, flashes of inspiration, and a
+clever argument to prove that criticism has always been the foe of
+letters, managed to fill a respectable duodecimo, and brought him to the
+notice of publishers and scholars.
+
+The essay has catholicity, independence, and wit, and it carries itself
+with whimsical ease. Every sentence steps out sprightly. Of the French
+Encyclopedies: "Wits and dunces contribute their share, and Diderot as
+well as Desmaretz are candidates for oblivion. The genius of the first
+supplies the gale of favor, and the latter adds the useful ballast of
+stupidity." Of the Germans: "They write through volumes, while they do
+not think through a page.... Were angels to write books, they never
+would write folios." And again: "If criticism could have improved the
+taste of a people, the Germans would have been the most polite nation
+alive." That settles the Encyclopedias and the Germans. So each
+nationality is sententiously reviewed and dismissed with an epigram that
+even to-day sounds not altogether unjust, rather amusing and urbane than
+acrimonious.
+
+But it was not until Goldsmith began the series of letters in the Public
+Ledger (1760), that was afterwards published as 'The Citizen of the
+World' that he took London. These letters purport to be from a
+philosophic Chinaman in Europe to his friends at home. Grave, gay,
+serene, ironical, they were at once an amusing image and a genial censor
+of current manners and morals. They are no less creative than critical;
+equally classic for the characters they contain: the Gentleman in Black,
+Beau Tibbs and his wife, the pawnbroker's widow, Tim Syllabub, and the
+procession of minor personages, romantic or ridiculous, but
+unique,--equally classic for these characters and for the satire of the
+conception. These are Goldsmith's best sketches. Though the prose is not
+always precise, it seems to be clear, and is simple. The writer cares
+more for the judicious than the sublime; for the quaint, the comic, and
+the agreeable than the pathetic. He chuckles with sly laughter--genial,
+sympathetic; he looses his arrow phosphorescent with wit, but not
+barbed, dipped in something subacid,--straight for the heart. Not Irving
+alone, but Thackeray, stands in line of descent from the Goldsmith of
+the 'Citizen.'
+
+'The Traveller,' polished _ad unguem_, appeared in 1764, and placed
+Goldsmith in the first rank of poets then living; but of that later.
+There is good reason for believing that his masterpiece in prose, 'The
+Vicar of Wakefield,' had been written as early as 1762, although it was
+not published until 1766. It made Goldsmith's mark as a storyteller. One
+can readily imagine how, after the grim humor of Smollett, the broad and
+_risque_ realism of Fielding, the loitering of Sterne, and the
+moralizing of Richardson, the public would seize with a sense of relief
+upon this unpretentious chronicle of a country clergyman's life: his
+peaceful home, its ruin, its restoration. Not because the narrative was
+quieter and simpler, shorter and more direct than other narratives, but
+because to its humor, realism, grace, and depth it added the charity of
+First Corinthians Thirteenth. England soon discovered that the borders
+of the humanities had been extended; that the Vicar and his "durable"
+wife, Moses, Olivia with the prenatal tendency to romance, Sophia, the
+graceless Jenkinson,--the habit and temper of the whole,--were a new
+province. The prose idyl, with all its beauty and charity, does not
+entitle Goldsmith to rank with the great novelists; but of its kind, in
+spite of faults of inaccuracy, improbability, and impossibility, it is
+first and best. Goethe read and re-read it with moral and aesthetic
+benefit; and the spirit of Goldsmith is not far to seek in 'Hermann and
+Dorothea.' 'The Vicar' is perhaps the most popular of English classics
+in foreign lands.
+
+In poetry, if Goldsmith did not write much, it was for lack of
+opportunity. What he did write is good, nearly all of it. The philosophy
+of 'The Traveller' (1764) and the political economy of 'The Deserted
+Village' (1770) may be dubious, but the poetry is true. There is in both
+a heartiness which discards the formalized emotion, prefers the touch of
+nature and the homely adjective. The characteristic is almost feminine
+in the description of Auburn: "_Dear_ lovely bowers"; it is inevitable,
+artless, in 'The Traveller': "His first, best country ever is at home."
+But on the other hand, the _curiosa felicitas_ marks every line, the
+nice selection of just the word or phrase richest in association,
+redolent of tradition, harmonious, classically proper, but still
+natural, true, and apt. "My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee"--not
+a word but is hearty; and for all that, the line is stamped with the
+academic authority of centuries: "Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans
+mare currunt." Both poems are characterized by the infrequency of
+epithet and figure,--the infrequency that marks sincerity and that
+heightens pleasure,--and by a cunning in the use of proper names,
+resonant, remote, suggestive: "On Idra's cliffs or Arno's shelvy
+side,"--the cunning of a musical poem. Both poems vibrate with
+personality, recall the experience of the writer. It would be hard to
+choose between them; but 'The Deserted Village' strikes the homelier
+chord, comes nearer, with its natural pathos, its sidelong smile, and
+its perennial novelty, to the heart of him who knows.
+
+Goldsmith is less eloquent but more natural than Dryden, less precise
+but more simple than Pope. In poetic sensibility he has the advantage of
+both. Were the volume of his verse not so slight, were his conceptions
+more sublime, and their embodiment more epic or dramatic, he might rank
+with the greatest of his century. As it is, in imaginative insight he
+has no superior in the eighteenth century; in observation, pathos,
+representative power, no equal: Dryden, Pope, Gray, Thomson,
+Young,--none but Collins approaches him. The reflective or descriptive
+poem can of course not compete with the drama, epic, or even lyric of
+corresponding merit in its respective kind. But Goldsmith's poems are
+the best of their kind, better than all but the best in other kinds. His
+conception of life is more generous and direct, hence truer and gentler,
+than that of the Augustan age. Raising no revolt against classical
+principles, he rejects the artifices of decadent classicism, returns to
+nature, and expresses _it_ simply. He is consequently in this respect
+the harbinger of Cowper, Crabbe, Bloomfield, Clare, Wordsworth, and
+Coleridge. In technique also he breaks away from Pope. His larger
+movement, his easier modulation, his richer tone, his rarer epithet and
+epigram, his metaphor "glowing from the heart," mark the defection from
+the poetry of cold conceit.
+
+For lack of space we can only refer to the romantic quality of his
+ballad 'Edwin and Angelina' (1765), the spontaneous humor of 'The Haunch
+of Venison,' and the exquisite satire of 'Retaliation' (1774).
+
+To appreciate the historical position of Goldsmith's comedies, one must
+regard them as a reaction against the school that had held the stage
+since the beginning of the century--a "genteel" and "sentimental"
+school, fearing to expose vice or ridicule absurdity. But Goldsmith felt
+that absurdity was the comic poet's game. Reverting therefore to
+Farquhar and the Comedy of Manners, he revived that species, at the same
+time infusing a strain of the "humors" of the tribe of Ben. Hence the
+approbation that welcomed his first comedy, and the applause that
+greeted the second. For 'The Good-natured Man' (1768) and 'She Stoops to
+Conquer' (1773) did by example what Hugh Kelly's 'Piety in Pattens'
+aimed to do by ridicule,--ousted the hybrid comedy (tradesman's tragedy,
+Voltaire called it) of which 'The Conscious Lovers' had been the most
+tolerable specimen, and 'The School for Lovers' the most decorous and
+dull.
+
+But "Goldy" had not only the gift of weighing the times, he had the gift
+of the popular dramatist. His _dramatis personae_ are on the one hand
+nearly all legitimate descendants of the national comedy, though none is
+a copy from dramatic predecessors; on the other hand, they are in every
+instance "imitations" of real life, more than once of some aspect of his
+own life; but none is so close an imitation as to detract from the
+pleasure which fiction should afford. The former quality makes his
+characters look familiar; the latter, true. So he accomplishes the feat
+most difficult for the dramatist: while idealizing the individual in
+order to realize the type, he does not for a moment lose the sympathy of
+his audience.
+
+Even in his earlier comedy these two characteristics are manifest. In
+the world of drama, young Honeywood is the legitimate descendant of
+Massinger's Wellborn on the one side, and of Congreve's Valentine Legend
+on the other, with a more distant collateral resemblance to Ben Jonson's
+Younger Knowell. But in the field of experience this "Good-natured Man"
+is that aspect of "Goldy" himself which, when he was poorest, made him
+not so poor but that Irishmen poorer still could live on him; that
+aspect of the glorious "idiot in affairs" which could make to the Earl
+of Northumberland, willing to be kind, no other suggestion of his wants
+than that he had a _brother_ in Ireland, "poor, a clergyman, and much in
+need of help." Similarly might those rare creations Croaker and Jack
+Lofty be traced to their predecessors in the field of drama, even though
+remote. That they had their analogies in the life of Goldsmith, and have
+them in the lives of others, it is unnecessary to prove. But graphic as
+these characters are, they cannot make of 'The Good-natured Man' more
+than a passable second to 'She Stoops to Conquer.' For the premises of
+the plot are absurd, if not impossible; the complication is not much
+more natural than that of a Punch-and-Judy show, and the denouement but
+one shade less improbable than that of 'The Vicar of Wakefield.' The
+value of the play is principally historical, not aesthetic.
+
+Congreve's 'Love for Love,' Vanbrugh's 'Relapse, Farquhar's 'Beaux'
+Stratagem,' Goldsmith's 'She Stoops to Conquer,' and Sheridan's 'School
+for Scandal,' are the best comedies written since Jonson, Fletcher, and
+Massinger held the stage. In plot and diction 'She Stoops to Conquer' is
+equaled by Congreve; in character-drawing by Vanbrugh; in dramatic ease
+by Farquhar, in observation and wit by Sheridan: but by none is it
+equaled in humor, and in naturalness of dialogue it is _facile
+princeps_. Here again the characterization presents the twofold charm of
+universality and reality. Young Marlow is the traditional lover of the
+type of Young Bellair, Mirabell, and Aimwell, suggesting each in turn
+but different from all; he is also, in his combination of embarrassment
+and impudence, not altogether unlike the lad Oliver who, years ago, on a
+journey back to school, had mistaken Squire Featherstone's house in
+Ardagh for an inn.
+
+A similar adjustment of dramatic type and historic individual
+contributes to the durability of Tony Lumpkin. In his _dramatis persona_
+he is a practical joker of the family of Diccon and Truewit, and first
+cousin on the Blenkinsop side to that horse-flesh Sir Harry Beagle. But
+Anthony is more than the practical joker or the squire booby: he is a
+near relative of Captain O'Blunder and that whole countryside of
+generous, touch-and-go Irishmen; while in reality, _in propria persona_,
+he is that aspect of Noll Goldsmith that "lived the buckeen" in
+Ballymahon. Of the other characters of the play, Hardcastle, Mrs.
+Hardcastle, and Kate have a like prerogative of immortality. They are
+royally descended and personally unique.
+
+The comedy has been absurdly called farcical. There is much less of the
+farcical than in many a so-called "legitimate" comedy. None of the
+circumstances are purely fortuitous; none unnecessary. Humor and caprice
+tend steadily to complicate the action, and by natural interaction
+prepare the way for the denouement. The misunderstandings are the more
+piquant because of their manifest irony and their ephemeral character.
+Indeed, if any fault is to be found with the play, it is that Goldsmith
+did not let it resolve itself without the assistance of Sir Charles
+Marlow.
+
+One peculiarity not yet mentioned is illustrative of Goldsmith's method.
+A system of mutual borrowing characterizes his works. The same thought,
+in the same or nearly the same language, occurs in half a dozen. 'The
+Enquiry' lends a phrase to 'The Citizen,' who passes it on to the
+'Vicar,' who, thinking it too good to keep, hands it over to the
+'Good-natured Man,' whence it is borrowed by 'She Stoops to Conquer,'
+and turned to look like new,--like a large family of sisters with a
+small wardrobe in common. This habit does not indicate poverty of
+invention in Goldsmith, but associative imagination and artistic
+conservatism.
+
+Goldsmith was the only Irish story-writer and poet of his century. Four
+Irishmen adorned the prose of the period: Goldsmith is as eminent in the
+natural style as Swift in the satiric, or Steele in the polished, or
+Burke in the grand. In comedy the Irish led; but Steele, Macklin,
+Murphy, Kelly, do not compare with Farquhar, Sheridan, and Goldsmith.
+The worst work of these is good, and their best is the best of the
+century.
+
+Turning to Goldsmith the man, what the "draggle-tail Muses" paid him we
+find him spending on dress and rooms and jovial magnificence, on
+relatives or countrymen or the unknown poor, with such freedom that he
+is never relieved of the necessity of drudgery. Still, sensitive,
+good-natured, improvident, Irish,--and a genius,--Goldsmith lived as
+happy a life as his disposition would allow. He had the companionship of
+congenial friends, the love of men like Johnson and Reynolds, the final
+assurance that his art was appreciated by the public. To be sure, he was
+never out of debt, but that was his own fault; he was never out of
+credit either. "Was there ever poet so trusted?" exclaimed Johnson,
+after this poet had got beyond reach of his creditors. His difficulties
+however affected him as they affect most Irishmen,--only by cataclysms.
+He was serene or wretched, but generally the former: he packed _noctes
+coenaeque deum_ by the dozen into his life. "There is no man," said
+Reynolds, "whose company is more liked." But maybe that was because his
+naivete, his brogue, his absent-mindedness, and his blunders (real or
+apparent) made him a ready butt for ridicule, not at the hands of
+Reynolds or Johnson, but of Beauclerk and the rest. For though his humor
+was sly, and his wit inimitable, Goldsmith's conversation was queer. It
+seemed to go by contraries. If permitted, he would ramble along in his
+hesitating, inconsequential fashion, on any subject under heaven--"too
+eager," thought Johnson, "to get on without knowing how he should get
+off." But if ignored, he would sit silent and apart,--sulking, thought
+Boswell. In fact, both the Dictator and laird of Auchinleck were of a
+mind that he tried too much to shine in conversation, for which he had
+no temper. But "Goldy's" _bons-mots_--such as the "Forsitan et nostrum
+nomen miscebitur _istis_" to Johnson, as they passed under the heads on
+Temple Bar,--make it evident that Garrick, with his
+
+  "Here lies Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,
+  Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,"
+
+and most of the members of the Literary Club, did not understand their
+Irishman. A timidity born of rough experience may have occasionally
+oppressed, a sensitiveness to ridicule or indifference may have confused
+him, a desire for approbation may frequently have led him to speak when
+silence had been golden; but that his conversation was "foolish" is the
+judgment of Philistines who make conversation an industry, not an
+amusement or an art.
+
+Boswell himself recounts more witty sayings than incomprehensible. And
+the "incomprehensible" are so only to Boswells and Hawkinses, who can
+hardly be expected to appreciate a humor, the vein of which is a mockery
+of their own solemn stupidity. Probably Goldsmith did say unconsidered
+things; he liked to think aloud in company, to "rattle on" for
+diversion. Keenly alive to the riches of language, he was the more
+likely to feel the embarrassment of impromptu selection; and while he
+was too much of a genius to keep count of every pearl, he was too
+considerate of his fellows to cast pearls only. But most of his fellows
+(Reynolds excepted) appreciated neither his drollery nor his
+unselfishness,--had not been educated up to the type of Irishman that
+with an artistic love of fun, is ever ready to promote the gayety of
+nations by sacrificing itself in the interest of laughter. For none but
+an artist can, without cracking a smile, offer up his wit on the altar
+of his humor.
+
+Prior describes Goldsmith as something under the middle size, sturdy,
+active, apparently capable of endurance; pale, forehead and upper lip
+rather projecting, face round, pitted with small-pox, and marked with
+strong lines of thinking. But Reynolds's painting idealizes and
+therefore best expresses the man, his twofold nature: on the one hand,
+self-depreciatory, generous, and improvident; on the other, aspiring,
+hungry for approval, laborious. Just such a man as would gild poverty
+with a smile, decline patronage and force his last sixpence on a
+street-singer, pile Pelion on Ossa for his publishers and turn out
+cameos for art.
+
+                                   [Signature: Charles Mills Gayley]
+
+
+
+THE VICAR'S FAMILY BECOME AMBITIOUS
+
+From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'
+
+
+I now began to find that all my long and painful lectures upon
+temperance, simplicity, and contentment were entirely disregarded. The
+distinctions lately paid us by our betters awakened that pride which I
+had laid asleep, but not removed. Our windows again, as formerly, were
+filled with washes for the neck and face. The sun was dreaded as an
+enemy to the skin without doors, and the fire as a spoiler of the
+complexion within. My wife observed that rising too early would hurt her
+daughters' eyes, that working after dinner would redden their noses,
+and she convinced me that the hands never looked so white as when they
+did nothing. Instead therefore of finishing George's shirts, we now had
+them new-modeling their old gauzes, or flourishing upon catgut. The poor
+Miss Flamboroughs, their former gay companions, were cast off as mean
+acquaintance, and the whole conversation ran upon high life and
+high-lived company, with pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical
+glasses.
+
+But we could have borne all this, had not a fortune-telling gypsy come
+to raise us into perfect sublimity. The tawny sibyl no sooner appeared
+than my girls came running to me for a shilling apiece, to cross her
+hand with silver. To say the truth, I was tired of being always wise,
+and could not help gratifying their request, because I loved to see them
+happy. I gave each of them a shilling, though for the honor of the
+family it must be observed that they never went without money
+themselves, as my wife always generously let them have a guinea each to
+keep in their pockets, but with strict injunctions never to change it.
+After they had been closeted up with the fortune-teller for some time, I
+knew by their looks, upon their returning, that they had been promised
+something great. "Well, my girls, how have you sped? Tell me, Livy, has
+the fortune-teller given thee a penny-worth?" "I protest, papa," says
+the girl, "I believe she deals with somebody that is not right, for she
+positively declared that I am to be married to a squire in less than a
+twelvemonth!" "Well now, Sophy, my child," said I, "and what sort of a
+husband are you to have?" "Sir," replied she, "I am to have a lord soon
+after my sister has married the squire." "How," cried I, "is that all
+you are to have for your two shillings? Only a lord and a squire for two
+shillings! You fools, I could have promised you a prince and a nabob for
+half the money!"
+
+This curiosity of theirs, however, was attended with very serious
+effects: we now began to think ourselves designed by the stars to
+something exalted, and already anticipated our future grandeur.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it once more,
+that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view are more pleasing
+than those crowned with fruition. In the first case we cook the dish to
+our own appetite; in the latter, nature cooks it for us. It is
+impossible to repeat the train of agreeable reveries we called up for
+our entertainment. We looked upon our fortunes as once more rising; and
+as the whole parish asserted that the Squire was in love with my
+daughter, she was actually so with him, for they persuaded her into the
+passion. In this agreeable interval my wife had the most lucky dreams in
+the world, which she took care to tell us every morning with great
+solemnity and exactness. It was one night a coffin and cross-bones, the
+sign of an approaching wedding; at another time she imagined her
+daughter's pockets filled with farthings, a certain sign of their being
+shortly stuffed with gold. The girls themselves had their omens. They
+felt strange kisses on their lips; they saw rings in the candle; purses
+bounced from the fire, and true-love knots lurked in the bottom of every
+teacup.
+
+Towards the end of the week we received a card from the town ladies, in
+which, with their compliments, they hoped to see all our family at
+church the Sunday following. All Saturday morning I could perceive, in
+consequence of this, my wife and daughters in close conference together,
+and now and then glancing at me with looks that betrayed a latent plot.
+To be sincere, I had strong suspicions that some absurd proposal was
+preparing for appearing with splendor the next day. In the evening they
+began their operations in a very regular manner, and my wife undertook
+to conduct the siege. After tea, when I seemed in spirits, she began
+thus: "I fancy, Charles my dear, we shall have a great deal of good
+company at our church to-morrow." "Perhaps we may, my dear," returned I;
+"though you need be under no uneasiness about that; you shall have a
+sermon whether there be or not." "That is what I expect," returned she;
+"but I think, my dear, we ought to appear there as decently as possible,
+for who knows what may happen?" "Your precautions," replied I, "are
+highly commendable. A decent behavior and appearance in church is what
+charms me. We should be devout and humble, cheerful and serene." "Yes,"
+cried she, "I know that; but I mean we should go there in as proper a
+manner as possible; not altogether like the scrubs about us." "You are
+quite right, my dear," returned I; "and I was going to make the very
+same proposal. The proper manner of going is to go there as early as
+possible, to have time for meditation before the service begins." "Phoo,
+Charles!" interrupted she; "all that is very true, but not what I would
+be at. I mean we should go there genteelly. You know the church is two
+miles off, and I protest I don't like to see my daughters trudging up to
+their pew all blowzed and red with walking, and looking for all the
+world as if they had been winners at a smock-race. Now, my dear, my
+proposal is this: there are our two plow-horses, the colt that has been
+in our family these nine years, and his companion Blackberry that has
+scarcely done an earthly thing this month past. They are both grown fat
+and lazy. Why should not they do something as well as we? And let me
+tell you, when Moses has trimmed them a little they will cut a very
+tolerable figure."
+
+To this proposal I objected that walking would be twenty times more
+genteel than such a paltry conveyance, as Blackberry was wall-eyed and
+the colt wanted a tail; that they had never been broke to the rein, but
+had a hundred vicious tricks; and that we had but one saddle and pillion
+in the whole house. All these objections however were overruled; so that
+I was obliged to comply. The next morning I perceived them not a little
+busy in collecting such materials as might be necessary for the
+expedition, but as I found it would be a business of time, I walked on
+to the church before, and they promised speedily to follow. I waited
+near an hour in the reading-desk for their arrival, but not finding them
+come as I expected, I was obliged to begin, and went through the
+service, not without some uneasiness at finding them absent. This was
+increased when all was finished, and no appearance of the family. I
+therefore walked back by the horse-way, which was five miles round,
+though the foot-way was but two, and when I got about half-way home,
+perceived the procession marching slowly forward towards the church; my
+son, my wife, and the two little ones exalted upon one horse, and my two
+daughters upon the other. I demanded the cause of their delay; but I
+soon found by their looks they had met with a thousand misfortunes on
+the road. The horses had at first refused to move from the door, till
+Mr. Burchell was kind enough to beat them forward for about two hundred
+yards with his cudgel. Next, the straps of my wife's pillion broke down,
+and they were obliged to stop to repair them before they could proceed.
+After that, one of the horses took it into his head to stand still, and
+neither blows nor entreaties could prevail with him to proceed. They
+were just recovering from this dismal situation when I found them; but
+perceiving everything safe, I own their present mortification did not
+much displease me, as it would give me many opportunities of future
+triumph, and teach my daughters more humility.
+
+Michaelmas Eve happening on the next day, we were invited to burn nuts
+and play tricks at neighbor Flamborough's. Our late mortifications had
+humbled us a little, or it is probable we might have rejected such an
+invitation with contempt; however, we suffered ourselves to be happy.
+Our honest neighbor's goose and dumplings were fine, and the lamb's
+wool, even in the opinion of my wife, who was a connoisseur, was
+excellent. It is true his manner of telling stories was not quite so
+well; they were very long and very dull, and all about himself, and we
+had laughed at them ten times before; however, we were kind enough to
+laugh at them once more.
+
+Mr. Burchell, who was of the party, was always fond of seeing some
+innocent amusement going forward, and set the boys and girls to
+blindman's buff. My wife too was persuaded to join in the diversion, and
+it gave me pleasure to think she was not yet too old. In the mean time
+my neighbor and I looked on, laughed at every feat, and praised our own
+dexterity when we were young. Hot cockles succeeded next, questions and
+commands followed that, and last of all they sat down to hunt the
+slipper. As every person may not be acquainted with this primeval
+pastime, it may be necessary to observe that the company at this play
+planted themselves in a ring upon the ground, all except one, who stands
+in the middle, whose business it is to catch a shoe which the company
+shove about under their hams from one to another, something like a
+weaver's shuttle. As it is impossible in this case for the lady who is
+up to face all the company at once, the great beauty of the play lies in
+hitting her a thump with the heel of the shoe on that side least capable
+of making a defense. It was in this manner that my eldest daughter was
+hemmed in and thumped about, all blowzed in spirits, and bawling for
+fair play with a voice that might deafen a ballad-singer, when,
+confusion on confusion! who should enter the room but our two great
+acquaintances from town, Lady Blarney and Miss Carolina Wilhelmina
+Amelia Skeggs! Description would but beggar, therefore it is unnecessary
+to describe this new mortification. Death! To be seen by ladies of such
+high breeding in such vulgar attitudes! Nothing better could ensue from
+such a vulgar play of Mr. Flamborough's proposing. We seemed stuck to
+the ground for some time, as if actually petrified with amazement.
+
+The two ladies had been at our house to see us, and finding us from
+home, came after us hither, as they were uneasy to know what accident
+could have kept us from church the day before. Olivia undertook to be
+our prolocutor, and delivered the whole in the summary way, only saying,
+"We were thrown from our horses." At which account the ladies were
+greatly concerned; but being told the family received no hurt, they were
+extremely glad; but being informed that we were almost killed by the
+fright, they were vastly sorry; but hearing that we had a very good
+night, they were extremely glad again. Nothing could exceed their
+complaisance to my daughters; their professions the last evening were
+warm, but now they were ardent. They protested a desire of having a more
+lasting acquaintance; Lady Blarney was particularly attached to Olivia;
+Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs (I love to give the whole name)
+took a greater fancy to her sister. They supported the conversation
+between themselves, while my daughters sat silent, admiring their
+exalted breeding. But as every reader, however beggarly himself, is fond
+of high-lived dialogues, with anecdotes of lords, ladies, and Knights of
+the Garter, I must beg leave to give him the concluding part of the
+present conversation.
+
+"All that I know of the matter," cried Miss Skeggs, "is this: that it
+may be true, or it may not be true; but this I can assure your ladyship,
+that the whole route was in amaze; his lordship turned all manner of
+colors, my lady fell into a swoon, but Sir Tomkyn, drawing his sword,
+swore he was hers to the last drop of his blood."
+
+"Well," replied our peeress, "this I can say: that the duchess
+never told me a syllable of the matter; and I believe her Grace
+would keep nothing a secret from me. This you may depend upon as
+fact: that the next morning my lord duke cried out three times to
+his _valet-de-chambre_, 'Jernigan, Jernigan, Jernigan, bring me
+my garters!'"
+
+But previously I should have mentioned the very impolite behavior of Mr.
+Burchell, who during this discourse sat with his face turned to the
+fire, and at the conclusion of every sentence would cry out
+"_Fudge!_"--an expression which displeased us all, and in some measure
+damped the rising spirit of the conversation.
+
+"Besides, my dear Skeggs," continued our peeress, "there is nothing of
+this in the copy of verses that Doctor Burdock made upon the occasion."
+_Fudge!_
+
+"I am surprised at that," cried Miss Skeggs; "for he seldom leaves
+anything out, as he writes only for his own amusement. But can your
+Ladyship favor me with a sight of them?" _Fudge!_
+
+"My dear creature," replied our peeress, "do you think I carry such
+things about me? Though they are very fine, to be sure, and I think
+myself something of a judge; at least I know what pleases myself.
+Indeed, I was ever an admirer of all Doctor Burdock's little pieces; for
+except what he does, and our dear countess at Hanover Square, there's
+nothing comes out but the most lowest stuff in nature; not a bit of high
+life among them." _Fudge!_
+
+"Your Ladyship should except," says t'other, "your own things in the
+Lady's Magazine. I hope you'll say there's nothing low-lived there? But
+I suppose we are to have no more from that quarter?" _Fudge!_
+
+"Why, my dear," says the lady, "you know my reader and companion has
+left me to be married to Captain Roach, and as my poor eyes won't suffer
+me to write myself, I have been for some time looking out for another. A
+proper person is no easy matter to find, and to be sure, thirty pounds a
+year is a small stipend for a well-bred girl of character, that can
+read, write, and behave in company; as for the chits about town, there
+is no bearing them about one." _Fudge!_
+
+"That I know," cried Miss Skeggs, "by experience. For of the three
+companions I had this last half-year, one of them refused to do plain
+work an hour in the day, another thought twenty-five guineas a year too
+small a salary, and I was obliged to send away the third because I
+suspected an intrigue with the chaplain. Virtue, my dear Lady Blarney,
+virtue is worth any price; but where is that to be found?" _Fudge!_
+
+My wife had been for a long time all attention to this discourse, but
+was particularly struck with the latter part of it. Thirty pounds and
+twenty-five guineas a year made fifty-six pounds five shillings, English
+money, all which was in a manner going a-begging, and might easily be
+secured in the family. She for a moment studied my looks for
+approbation; and to own a truth, I was of opinion that two such places
+would fit our two daughters exactly. Besides, if the Squire had any real
+affection for my eldest daughter, this would be the way to make her
+every way qualified for her fortune. My wife therefore was resolved that
+we should not be deprived of such advantages for want of assurance, and
+undertook to harangue for the family. "I hope," cried she, "your
+ladyships will pardon my present presumption. It is true, we have no
+right to pretend to such favors; but yet it is natural for me to wish
+putting my children forward in the world. And I will be bold to say my
+two girls have had a pretty good education and capacity; at least, the
+country can't show better. They can read, write, and cast accounts; they
+understand their needle, broad-stitch, cross-and-change, and all manner
+of plain work; they can pink, point, and frill, and know something of
+music; they can do up small-clothes, work upon catgut; my eldest can cut
+paper, and my youngest has a very pretty manner of telling fortunes upon
+the cards." _Fudge!_
+
+When she had delivered this pretty piece of eloquence, the two ladies
+looked at each other a few moments in silence, with an air of doubt and
+importance. At last Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs condescended
+to observe that the young ladies, from the opinion she could form of
+them from so slight an acquaintance, seemed very fit for such
+employments. "But a thing of this kind, madam," cried she, addressing my
+spouse, "requires a thorough examination into characters, and a more
+perfect knowledge of each other. Not, madam," continued she, "that I in
+the least suspect the young ladies' virtue, prudence, and discretion;
+but there is a form in these things, madam, there is a form."
+
+My wife approved her suspicions very much, observing that she was very
+apt to be suspicious herself; but referred her to all the neighbors for
+a character; but this our peeress declined as unnecessary, alleging that
+her cousin Thornhill's recommendation would be sufficient, and upon this
+we rested our petition.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When we returned home, the night was dedicated to schemes of future
+conquest. Deborah exerted much sagacity in conjecturing which of the two
+girls was likely to have the best place, and most opportunities of
+seeing good company. The only obstacle to our preferment was in
+obtaining the Squire's recommendation; but he had already shown us too
+many instances of his friendship to doubt of it now. Even in bed my wife
+kept up the usual theme: "Well, faith, my dear Charles, between
+ourselves, I think we have made an excellent day's work of it." "Pretty
+well," cried I, not knowing what to say. "What, only pretty well!"
+returned she; "I think it is very well. Suppose the girls should come to
+make acquaintances of taste in town! This I am assured of, that London
+is the only place in the world for all manner of husbands. Besides, my
+dear, stranger things happen every day; and as ladies of quality are so
+taken with my daughters, what will not men of quality be! _Entre nous_,
+I protest I like my Lady Blarney vastly; so very obliging. However, Miss
+Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs has my warm heart. But yet when they
+came to talk of places in town, you saw at once how I nailed them. Tell
+me, my dear, don't you think I did for my children there?" "Ay,"
+returned I, not knowing well what to think of the matter; "Heaven grant
+that they may be both the better for it this day three months!" This was
+one of those observations I usually made to impress my wife with an
+opinion of my sagacity; for if the girls succeeded, then it was a pious
+wish fulfilled; but if anything unfortunate ensued, then it might be
+looked upon as a prophecy.
+
+
+
+NEW MISFORTUNES: BUT OFFENSES ARE EASILY PARDONED WHERE THERE IS LOVE AT
+BOTTOM
+
+From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'
+
+
+The next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out on my return
+home. As we traveled along, I strove by every persuasion to calm her
+sorrows and fears, and to arm her with resolution to bear the presence
+of her offended mother. I took every opportunity, from the prospect of a
+fine country through which we passed, to observe how much kinder Heaven
+was to us than we were to each other, and that the misfortunes of
+nature's making were very few. I assured her that she should never
+perceive any change in my affections, and that during my life, which yet
+might be long, she might depend upon a guardian and an instructor. I
+armed her against the censures of the world; showed her that books were
+sweet, unreproaching companions to the miserable, and that if they could
+not bring us to enjoy life, they would at least teach us to endure it.
+
+The hired horse that we rode was to be put up that night at an inn by
+the way, within about five miles from my house; and as I was willing to
+prepare my family for my daughter's reception, I determined to leave her
+that night at the inn, and to return for her accompanied by my daughter
+Sophia, early the next morning. It was night before we reached our
+appointed stage; however, after seeing her provided with a decent
+apartment, and having ordered the hostess to prepare proper
+refreshments, I kissed her, and proceeded towards home. And now my heart
+caught new sensations of pleasure, the nearer I approached that peaceful
+mansion. As a bird that had been frighted from its nest, my affections
+outwent my haste, and hovered round my little fireside with all the
+rapture of expectation. I called up the many fond things I had to say,
+and anticipated the welcome I was to receive. I already felt my wife's
+tender embrace, and smiled at the joy of my little ones. As I walked but
+slowly, the night waned apace. The laborers of the day were all retired
+to rest; the lights were out in every cottage; no sounds were heard but
+of the shrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed watch-dog at the hollow
+distance. I approached my little abode of pleasure, and before I was
+within a furlong of the place our honest mastiff came running to welcome
+me.
+
+It was now near midnight that I came to knock at my door; all was still
+and silent; my heart dilated with unutterable happiness; when to my
+amazement I saw the house bursting out in a blaze of fire, and every
+aperture red with conflagration! I gave a loud convulsive outcry, and
+fell upon the pavement insensible. This alarmed my son, who had till
+this been asleep, and he perceiving the flames instantly waked my wife
+and daughter, and all running out naked and wild with apprehension,
+recalled me to life with their anguish. But it was only to objects of
+new terror; for the flames had by this time caught the roof of our
+dwelling, part after part continuing to fall in, while the family stood
+with silent agony looking on, as if they enjoyed the blaze. I gazed upon
+them and upon it by turns, and then looked round me for my two little
+ones: but they were not to be seen. Oh misery! "Where," cried I, "where
+are my little ones?" "They are burnt to death in the flames," said my
+wife calmly, "and I will die with them." That moment I heard the cry of
+the babes within, who were just awaked by the fire; and nothing could
+have stopped me. "Where, where are my children?" cried I, rushing
+through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber in which they
+were confined; "where are my little ones?" "Here, dear papa, here we
+are," cried they together, while the flames were just catching the bed
+where they lay. I caught them both in my arms, and snatched them through
+the fire as fast as possible, while just as I was got out, the roof
+sunk in. "Now," cried I, holding up my children, "now let the flames
+burn on, and all my possessions perish. Here they are; I have saved my
+treasure. Here, my dearest, here are our treasures, and we shall yet be
+happy." We kissed our little darlings a thousand times, they clasped us
+round the neck and seemed to share our transports, while their mother
+laughed and wept by turns.
+
+I now stood a calm spectator of the flames, and after some time began to
+perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched in a terrible manner.
+It was therefore out of my power to give my son any assistance, either
+in attempting to save our goods, or preventing the flames spreading to
+our corn. By this time the neighbors were alarmed, and came running to
+our assistance; but all they could do was to stand, like us, spectators
+of the calamity. My goods, among which were the notes I had reserved for
+my daughters' fortunes, were entirely consumed, except a box with some
+papers that stood in the kitchen, and two or three things more of little
+consequence which my son brought away in the beginning. The neighbors
+contributed, however, what they could to lighten our distress. They
+brought us clothes, and furnished one of our out-houses with kitchen
+utensils; so that by daylight we had another, though a wretched
+dwelling, to retire to. My honest next neighbor and his children were
+not the least assiduous in providing us with everything necessary, and
+offering whatever consolation untutored benevolence could suggest.
+
+When the fears of my family had subsided, curiosity to know the cause of
+my long stay began to take place; having therefore informed them of
+every particular, I proceeded to prepare them for the reception of our
+lost one, and though we had nothing but wretchedness now to impart, I
+was willing to procure her a welcome to what we had. This task would
+have been more difficult but for our recent calamity, which had humbled
+my wife's pride and blunted it by more poignant afflictions. Being
+unable to go for my poor child myself, as my arm grew very painful, I
+sent my son and daughter, who soon returned, supporting the wretched
+delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her mother, whom no
+instructions of mine could persuade to a perfect reconciliation; for
+women have a much stronger sense of female error than men. "Ah, madam,"
+cried her mother, "this is but a poor place you have come to after so
+much finery. My daughter Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment
+to persons who have kept company only with people of distinction. Yes,
+Miss Livy, your poor father and I have suffered very much of late; but I
+hope Heaven will forgive you." During this reception the unhappy victim
+stood pale and trembling, unable to weep or to reply; but I could not
+continue a silent spectator of her distress; wherefore, assuming a
+degree of severity in my voice and manner which was ever followed with
+instant submission:--"I entreat, woman, that my words may be now marked
+once for all: I have here brought you back a poor deluded wanderer; her
+return to duty demands the revival of our tenderness. The real hardships
+of life are now coming fast upon us; let us not therefore increase them
+by dissension among each other. If we live harmoniously together, we may
+yet be contented, as there are enough of us to shut out the censuring
+world and keep each other in countenance. The kindness of Heaven is
+promised to the penitent, and let ours be directed by the example.
+Heaven, we are assured, is much more pleased to view a repentant sinner
+than ninety-nine persons who have supported a course of undeviating
+rectitude. And this is right; for that single effort by which we stop
+short in the down-hill path to perdition, is itself a greater exertion
+of virtue than a hundred acts of justice."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some assiduity was now required to make our present abode as convenient
+as possible, and we were soon again qualified to enjoy our former
+serenity. Being disabled myself from assisting my son in our usual
+occupations, I read to my family from the few books that were saved, and
+particularly from such as by amusing the imagination contributed to ease
+the heart. Our good neighbors, too, came every day with the kindest
+condolence, and fixed a time in which they were all to assist at
+repairing my former dwelling. Honest Farmer Williams was not last among
+these visitors, but heartily offered his friendship. He would even have
+renewed his addresses to my daughter; but she rejected them in such a
+manner as totally repressed his future solicitations. Her grief seemed
+formed for continuing, and she was the only person of our little society
+that a week did not restore to cheerfulness. She had now lost that
+unblushing innocence which once taught her to respect herself, and to
+seek pleasure by pleasing. Anxiety now had taken strong possession of
+her mind, her beauty began to be impaired with her constitution, and
+neglect still more contributed to diminish it. Every tender epithet
+bestowed on her sister brought a pang to her heart and a tear to her
+eye; and as one vice, though cured, ever plants others where it has
+been, so her former guilt, though driven out by repentance, left
+jealousy and envy behind. I strove in a thousand ways to lessen her
+care, and even forgot my own pain in a concern for hers, collecting such
+amusing passages of history as a strong memory and some reading could
+suggest. "Our happiness, my dear," I would say, "is in the power of One
+who can bring it about a thousand unforeseen ways that mock our
+foresight."
+
+In this manner I would attempt to amuse my daughter; but she listened
+with divided attention, for her own misfortunes engrossed all the pity
+she once had for those of another, and nothing gave her ease. In company
+she dreaded contempt, and in solitude she only found anxiety. Such was
+the color of her wretchedness, when we received certain information that
+Mr. Thornhill was going to be married to Miss Wilmot, for whom I always
+suspected he had a real passion, though he took every opportunity before
+me to express his contempt both of her person and fortune. This news
+only served to increase poor Olivia's affliction; such a flagrant breach
+of fidelity was more than her courage could support. I was resolved
+however to get more certain information, and to defeat if possible the
+completion of his designs, by sending my son to old Mr. Wilmot's with
+instructions to know the truth of the report, and to deliver Miss Wilmot
+a letter intimating Mr. Thornhill's conduct in my family. My son went in
+pursuance of my directions, and in three days returned, assuring us of
+the truth of the account; but that he had found it impossible to deliver
+the letter, which he was therefore obliged to leave, as Mr. Thornhill
+and Miss Wilmot were visiting round the country. They were to be
+married, he said, in a few days, having appeared together at church the
+Sunday before he was there, in great splendor; the bride attended by six
+young ladies, and he by as many gentlemen. Their approaching nuptials
+filled the whole country with rejoicing, and they usually rode out
+together in the grandest equipage that had been seen in the country for
+years. All the friends of both families, he said, were there,
+particularly the Squire's uncle, Sir William Thornhill, who bore so good
+a character. He added that nothing but mirth and feasting were going
+forward; that all the country praised the young bride's beauty and the
+bridegroom's fine person, and that they were immensely fond of each
+other; concluding that he could not help thinking Mr. Thornhill one of
+the most happy men in the world.
+
+"Why, let him if he can," returned I; "but my son, observe this bed of
+straw and unsheltering roof, those moldering walls and humid floor, my
+wretched body thus disabled by fire, and my children weeping round me
+for bread. You have come home, my child, to all this; yet here, even
+here, you see a man that would not for a thousand worlds exchange
+situations. O my children, if you could but learn to commune with your
+own hearts, and know what noble company you can make them, you would
+little regard the elegance and splendor of the worthless. Almost all men
+have been taught to call life a passage, and themselves the travelers.
+The similitude still may be improved, when we observe that the good are
+joyful and serene, like travelers that are going towards home; the
+wicked but by intervals happy, like travelers that are going into
+exile."
+
+My compassion for my poor daughter, overpowered by this new disaster,
+interrupted what I had further to observe. I bade her mother support
+her, and after a short time she recovered. She appeared from that time
+more calm, and I imagined had gained a new degree of resolution; but
+appearances deceived me, for her tranquillity was the languor of
+overwrought resentment. A supply of provisions charitably sent us by my
+kind parishioners seemed to diffuse new cheerfulness among the rest of
+the family; nor was I displeased at seeing them once more sprightly and
+at ease. It would have been unjust to damp their satisfactions merely to
+condole with resolute melancholy, or to burden them with a sadness they
+did not feel. Thus once more the tale went round, and the song was
+demanded, and cheerfulness condescended to hover round our little
+habitation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for the season; so
+that we agreed to breakfast together on the honeysuckle bank; where,
+while we sat, my youngest daughter, at my request, joined her voice to
+the concert on the trees about us. It was in this place my poor Olivia
+first met her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness.
+But that melancholy which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired
+by sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. Her
+mother, too, upon this occasion felt a pleasing distress, and wept, and
+loved her daughter as before. "Do, my pretty Olivia," cried she, "let us
+have that little melancholy air your papa was so fond of; your sister
+Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child; it will please your old
+father." She complied in a manner so exquisitely pathetic as moved me:
+
+  "When lovely woman stoops to folly,
+    And finds too late that men betray,
+  What charm can soothe her melancholy?
+    What art can wash her guilt away?
+
+  "The only art her guilt to cover,
+    "To hide her shame from every eye,
+  To give repentance to her lover,
+    And wring his bosom, is--to die."
+
+As she was concluding the last stanza, to which an interruption in her
+voice from sorrow gave peculiar softness, the appearance of Mr.
+Thornhill's equipage at a distance alarmed us all, but particularly
+increased the uneasiness of my eldest daughter, who, desirous of
+shunning her betrayer, returned to the house with her sister. In a few
+minutes he was alighted from his chariot, and making up to the place
+where I was still sitting, inquired after my health with his usual air
+of familiarity. "Sir," replied I, "your present assurance only serves to
+aggravate the baseness of your character; and there was a time when I
+would have chastised your insolence for presuming thus to appear before
+me. But now you are safe; for age has cooled my passions, and my calling
+restrains me."
+
+"I vow, my dear sir," returned he, "I am amazed at all this, nor can I
+understand what it means. I hope you don't think your daughter's late
+excursion with me had anything criminal in it."
+
+"Go," cried I; "thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful wretch, and every way
+a liar; but your meanness secures you from my anger. Yet, sir, I am
+descended from a family that would not have borne this! And so, thou
+vile thing! to gratify a momentary passion, thou hast made one poor
+creature wretched for life, and polluted a family that had nothing but
+honor for their portion."
+
+"If she or you," returned he, "are resolved to be miserable, I cannot
+help it. But you may still be happy; and whatever opinion you may have
+formed of me, you shall ever find me ready to contribute to it. We can
+marry her to another in a short time, and what is more, she may keep
+her lover beside; for I protest I shall ever continue to have a true
+regard for her."
+
+I found all my passions alarmed at this new degrading proposal; for
+although the mind may often be calm under great injuries, little
+villainy can at any time get within the soul and sting it into rage.
+"Avoid my sight, thou reptile," cried I, "nor continue to insult me with
+thy presence. Were my brave son at home he would not suffer this; but I
+am old and disabled, and every way undone."
+
+"I find," cried he, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in a harsher
+manner than I intended. But as I have shown you what may be hoped from
+my friendship, it may not be improper to represent what may be the
+consequences of my resentment. My attorney, to whom your late bond has
+been transferred, threatens hard; nor do I know how to prevent the
+course of justice except by paying the money myself, which, as I have
+been at some expenses lately previous to my intended marriage, is not so
+easy to be done. And then my steward talks of driving for the rent: it
+is certain he knows his duty, for I never trouble myself with affairs of
+that nature. Yet still I could wish to serve you, and even to have you
+and your daughter present at my marriage, which is shortly to be
+solemnized with Miss Wilmot; it is even the request of my charming
+Arabella herself, whom I hope you will not refuse."
+
+"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "hear me once for all: as to your marriage
+with any but my daughter, that I never will consent to; and though your
+friendship could raise me to a throne, or your resentment sink me to the
+grave, yet would I despise both. Thou hast once woefully, irreparably
+deceived me. I reposed my heart upon thine honor, and have found its
+baseness. Never more, therefore, expect friendship from me. Go, and
+possess what fortune has given thee--beauty, riches, health, and
+pleasure. Go and leave me to want, infamy, disease, and sorrow. Yet
+humbled as I am, shall my heart still vindicate its dignity, and though
+thou hast my forgiveness, thou shalt ever have my contempt."
+
+"If so," returned he, "depend upon it you shall feel the effects of this
+insolence; and we shall shortly see which is the fittest object of
+scorn, you or me." Upon which he departed abruptly.
+
+
+
+PICTURES FROM 'THE DESERTED VILLAGE'
+
+
+  Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,
+  Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.
+  Here, as I take my solitary rounds
+  Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,
+  And, many a year elapsed, return to view
+  Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,
+  Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train,
+  Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
+  In all my wanderings round this world of care,
+  In all my griefs,--and God has given my share,--
+  I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
+  Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
+  To husband out life's taper at the close,
+  And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
+  I still had hopes--for pride attends us still--
+  Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill;
+  Around my fire an evening group to draw,
+  And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;
+  And as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue
+  Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,
+  I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
+  Here to return--and die at home at last.
+
+  Oh, blest retirement! friend to life's decline,
+  Retreat from care, that never must be mine,
+  How blest is he who crowns in shades like these
+  A youth of labor with an age of ease;
+  Who quits a world where strong temptations try,
+  And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
+  For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
+  Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep;
+  No surly porter stands in guilty state,
+  To spurn imploring famine from the gate:
+  But on he moves to meet his latter end,
+  Angels around befriending virtue's friend;
+  Bends to the grave with unperceived decay,
+  While resignation gently slopes the way;
+  And, all his prospects brightening to the last,
+    His heaven commences ere the world be past.
+
+  Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
+  Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
+  There, as I passed with careless steps and slow,
+  The mingling notes came softened from below:
+  The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
+  The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;
+  The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool;
+  The playful children just let loose from school;
+  The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind,
+  And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
+  These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
+  And filled each pause the nightingale had made.
+  But now the sounds of population fail;
+  No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale;
+  No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
+  But all the bloomy flush of life is fled.
+  All but yon widowed, solitary thing
+  That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
+  She, wretched matron,--forced in age, for bread,
+  To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
+  To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn,
+  To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn,--
+  She only left of all the harmless train,
+  The sad historian of the pensive plain.
+
+  Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
+  And still where many a garden flower grows wild,
+  There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
+  The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
+  A man he was to all the country dear,
+  And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
+  Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
+  Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place:
+  Unpracticed he to fawn, or seek for power,
+  By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
+  Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
+  More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
+  His house was known to all the vagrant train,--
+  He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;
+  The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
+  Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
+  The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
+  Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
+  The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
+  Sate by his fire, and talked the night away,
+  Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
+  Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.
+  Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
+  And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
+  Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
+  His pity gave ere charity began.
+
+  Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
+  And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side:
+  But in his duty prompt at every call,
+  He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.
+  And as a bird each fond endearment tries
+  To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
+  He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
+  Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
+
+  Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
+  And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,
+  The reverend champion stood. At his control,
+  Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
+  Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
+  And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
+
+  At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
+  His looks adorned the venerable place;
+  Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
+  And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.
+  The service past, around the pious man,
+  With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;
+  Even children followed, with endearing wile,
+  And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
+  His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest;
+  Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest;
+  To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,
+  But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven:
+  As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
+  Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
+  Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
+  Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
+
+  Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
+  With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
+  There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
+  The village master taught his little school.
+  A man severe he was, and stern to view;
+  I knew him well, and every truant knew:
+  Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
+  The day's disasters in his morning face;
+  Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
+  At all his jokes,--for many a joke had he;
+  Full well, the busy whisper, circling round,
+  Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
+  Yet he was kind; or if severe in aught,
+  The love he bore to learning was in fault.
+  The village all declared how much he knew:
+  'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
+  Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
+  And even the story ran that he could _gauge_.
+  In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,
+  For even though vanquished he could argue still;
+  While words of learned length and thundering sound,
+  Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,
+  And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
+  That one small head could carry all he knew.
+  But past is all his fame. The very spot
+  Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.
+
+  Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,
+  Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,
+  Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,
+  Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired,
+  Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,
+  And news much older than their ale went round.
+  Imagination fondly stoops to trace
+  The parlor splendors of that festive place:
+  The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor,
+  The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;
+  The chest contrived a double debt to pay,
+  A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
+  The pictures placed for ornament and use,
+  The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;
+  The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,
+  With aspen boughs and flowers and fennel gay,
+  While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,
+  Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.
+
+  Vain, transitory splendors! could not all
+  Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?
+  Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
+  An hour's importance to the poor man's heart.
+  Thither no more the peasant shall repair
+  To sweet oblivion of his daily care;
+  No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
+  No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
+  No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
+  Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;
+  The host himself no longer shall be found
+  Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;
+  Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,
+  Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.
+
+  Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain
+  These simple blessings of the lowly train;
+  To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
+  One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
+  Spontaneous joys where nature has its play,
+  The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;
+  Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
+  Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.
+  But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,
+  With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed,--
+  In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
+  The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;
+  And even while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
+  The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.
+
+
+
+CONTRASTED NATIONAL TYPES
+
+From 'The Traveller'
+
+
+  My soul, turn from them; turn we to survey
+  Where rougher climes a nobler race display;
+  Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,
+  And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.
+  No product here the barren hills afford,
+  But man and steel, the soldier and his sword;
+  No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
+  But winter lingering chills the lap of May;
+  No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
+  But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
+
+  Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm.
+  Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.
+  Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small
+  He sees his little lot the lot of all;
+  Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
+  To shame the meanness of his humble shed;
+  No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal
+  To make him loathe his vegetable meal;
+  But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
+  Each wish contracting fits him to the soil.
+  Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
+  Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes;
+  With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
+  Or drives his venturous plowshare to the steep;
+  Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,
+  And drags the struggling savage into day.
+  At night returning, every labor sped,
+  He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
+  Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
+  His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
+  While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard,
+  Displays her cleanly platter on the board;
+  And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,
+  With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
+
+  Thus every good his native wilds impart,
+  Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;
+  And even those ills that round his mansion rise,
+  Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies.
+  Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
+  And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;
+  And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
+  Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,
+  So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
+  But bind him to his native mountains more.
+
+  Such are the charms to barren states assigned;
+  Their wants but few, their wishes all confined.
+  Yet let them only share the praises due,--
+  If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;
+  For every want that stimulates the breast
+  Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.
+  Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies
+  That first excites desire, and then supplies;
+  Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,
+  To fill the languid pause with finer joy;
+  Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,
+  Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.
+  Their level life is but a smoldering fire,
+  Unquenched by want, unfanned by strong desire;
+  Unfit for raptures, or if raptures cheer
+  On some high festival of once a year,
+  In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,
+  Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.
+
+  But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow:
+  Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low;
+  For as refinement stops, from sire to son
+  Unaltered, unimproved, the manners run;
+  And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart
+  Falls blunted from each indurated heart.
+  Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
+  May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest;
+  But all the gentler morals, such as play
+  Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way,
+  These, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly,
+  To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.
+
+  To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,
+  I turn; and France displays her bright domain.
+  Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,
+  Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please,
+  How often have I led thy sportive choir,
+  With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire!
+  Where shading elms along the margin grew,
+  And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew;
+  And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,
+  But mocked all tune, and marred the dancer's skill,
+  Yet would the village praise my wondrous power,
+  And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour.
+  Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
+  Have led their children through the mirthful maze;
+  And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,
+  Has frisked beneath the burthen of threescore.
+
+  So blest a life these thoughtless realms display,
+  Thus idly busy rolls their world away:
+  Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear,
+  For honor forms the social temper here.
+  Honor, that praise which real merit gains,
+  Or even imaginary worth obtains,
+  Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,
+  It shifts in splendid traffic round the land;
+  From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,
+  And all are taught an avarice of praise:
+  They please, are pleased, they give to get esteem,
+  Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.
+
+  But while this softer art their bliss supplies,
+  It gives their follies also room to rise:
+  For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought,
+  Enfeebles all internal strength of thought;
+  And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
+  Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
+  Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
+  Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;
+  Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,
+  And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;
+  Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
+  To boast one splendid banquet once a year:
+  The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
+  Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.
+
+
+
+
+IVAN ALEKSANDROVITCH GONCHAROF
+
+(1812-)
+
+BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
+
+[Illustration: I.V. GONCHAROF]
+
+
+Among the Russian novelists of the first rank stands Ivan the son of
+Alexander Goncharof. His life has been almost synchronous with the
+century. He was born in 1812 in the city of Simbirsk, on the Volga below
+Nizhni Novgorod. His father, a wealthy merchant of that flourishing
+town, died when the boy was only three years old, leaving him in the
+care of his mother, a conscientious and lovely woman, who, without a
+remarkable education, nevertheless determined that her son should have
+the best that could be provided. In this she was cordially assisted by
+Ivan's godfather, a retired naval officer who lived in one of her houses
+and was a cultivated, lively, and lovable man, the centre of the best
+society of the provincial city. His tales of travel and adventure early
+implanted in the boy a great passion for reading and study about foreign
+lands, and the desire to see the world.
+
+He was at first taught at home; then he was sent to a private school
+which had been established by a local priest for the benefit of
+neighboring land-owners and gentry. This priest had been educated at the
+Theological School at Kazan, and was distinguished for his courtly
+manners and general cultivation. His wife--for it must be remembered
+that the Russian priesthood is not celibate--was a fascinating French
+woman, and she taught her native tongue in her husband's school. This
+remarkable little institution had a small but select library, and here
+young Goncharof indulged his taste in reading by devouring the Voyages
+of Captain Cook, Mungo Park, and others, the histories of Karamzin and
+Rollin, the poetical works of Tasso and Fenelon, as well as the romantic
+fiction of that day; he was especially fascinated by 'The Heir of
+Redclyffe.' His reading, however, was ill regulated and not well adapted
+for his mental discipline. At twelve he was taken by his mother to
+Moscow, where he had the opportunity to study English and German as well
+as to continue his reading in French, in which he had already been well
+grounded.
+
+In 1831 he entered Moscow University, electing the Philological Faculty.
+There were at that time in the University a coterie of young men who
+afterwards became famous as writers, and the lectures delivered by a
+number of enthusiastic young professors were admirably calculated to
+develop the best in those who heard them. He finished the complete
+course, and after a brief visit at his native place went to St.
+Petersburg, where he entered the Ministry of Finance. Gogol, and
+Goncharof himself, have painted the depressing influence of the
+officialdom then existing. The _chinovnik_ as painted by those early
+realists was a distinct type. But on the other hand, there was a
+delightful society at St. Petersburg, and the literary impulses of
+talented young men were fostered by its leaders. Some of these men
+founded a new journal of which Salonitsuin was the leading spirit, and
+in this appeared Goncharof's first articles. They were of a humoristic
+tendency. His first serious work was entitled 'Obuiknavennaya Istoriya'
+(An Ordinary Story),--a rather melancholy tale, showing how youthful
+enthusiasm and the dreams of progress and perfection can be killed by
+formalism: Aleksandr Aduyef the romantic dreamer is contrasted with his
+practical uncle Peter Ivanovitch. The second part was not completed when
+the first part was placed in the hands of the critic Byelinsky, the
+sovereign arbiter on things literary. Byelinsky gave it his
+"imprimatur," and it was published in the Sovremennik (Contemporary) in
+1847. The conception of his second and by all odds his best romance,
+'Oblomof,' was already in his mind; and the first draft was published in
+the Illustrated Album, under the title 'Son Oblomova' (Oblomof's Dream),
+the following year.
+
+In 1852 Goncharof received from the Marine Ministry a proposition to
+sail around the world as private secretary to Admiral Putyatin. On his
+return he contributed to various magazines sketches of his experiences,
+and finally published a handsome volume of his travels entitled 'Phregat
+Pallada' (The Frigate Pallas). In 1857 he went to Carlsbad and completed
+'Oblomof' on which he had been working so many years. It appeared in
+Otetchestvenniya Zapiski (Annals of the Fatherland) in 1858 and 1859,
+and made a profound sensation. The hero was recognized as a perfectly
+elaborated portrait of a not uncommon type of Russian character: a
+good-natured, warm-hearted, healthy young man, so enervated by the
+atmosphere of indolence into which he has allowed himself to sink, that
+nothing serves to rouse him. Love is the only impulse which could
+galvanize him into life. Across his path comes the beautiful Olga, whom
+the Russians claim as a poetic and at the same time a genuine
+representative of the best Russian womanhood. Vigorous, alert, with mind
+and heart equally well developed, she stirs the latent manhood of
+Oblomof; but when he comes to face the responsibilities, the cares, and
+the duties of matrimony, he has not the courage to enter upon them.
+Olga marries Oblomof's friend Stoltz, whom Goncharof intended to be a
+no less typical specimen of Russian manhood, and whom most critics
+consider overdrawn and not true to life. The novel is a series of
+wonderful _genre_ pictures: his portraits are marvels of finish and
+delicacy; and there are a number of dramatic scenes, although the story
+as a whole lacks movement. The first chapter, which is here reproduced,
+is chosen not as perhaps the finest in the book, but as thoroughly
+characteristic. It is also a fine specimen of Russian humor.
+
+Goncharof finished in 1868 his third novel, entitled 'Abruif' (The
+Precipice). It was published first in the Viestnik Yevropui (European
+Messenger), and in book form in 1870. In this he tries to portray the
+type of the Russian Nihilist; but Volokhof is regarded rather as a
+caricature than as a faithful portrait. In contrast with him stands the
+beautiful Viera; but just as Volokhof falls below Oblomof, so Viera
+yields to Olga in perfect realism. One of the best characters in the
+story is the dilettante Raisky, the type of the man who has an artistic
+nature but no energy. One of the most important characters of the book
+is Viera's grandmother: the German translation of 'The Precipice' is
+entitled 'The Grandmother's Fault.'
+
+Goncharof has written a few literary essays, and during the past few
+years has contributed to one of the Russian reviews a series of literary
+recollections. But his fame with posterity will depend principally on
+his 'Oblomof,' the name of which has given to the language a new
+word,--_oblomovshchina_[F] Oblomovism,--the typically Russian indolence
+which was induced by the peculiar social conditions existing in Russia
+before the emancipation of the serfs in 1861: indifference to all social
+questions; the expectation that others will do your work; or as
+expressed in the Russian proverb, "the trusting in others as in God, but
+in yourself as in the Devil."
+
+                                    [Signature: Nathan Haskell Dole]
+
+    [F] Oblomof is the genitive plural of the word oblom or oblam,
+    a term expressive of anything broken or almost useless, or
+    even bad; a rude, awkward, unfinished man.
+
+
+
+OBLOMOF
+
+
+In Garokhavaya Street, in one of those immense houses the population
+of which would suffice for a whole provincial city, there lay one
+morning in bed in his apartment Ilya Ilyitch Oblomof. He was a
+pleasant-appearing man of two or three and twenty, of medium stature,
+with dark gray eyes; but his face lacked any fixed idea or concentration
+of purpose. A thought would wander like a free bird over his features,
+flutter in his eyes, light on his parted lips, hide itself in the
+wrinkles of his brow, then entirely vanish away; and over his whole
+countenance would spread the shadeless light of unconcern.
+
+From his face this indifference extended to the attitudes of his whole
+body, even to the folds of his dressing-gown. Occasionally his eyes were
+darkened by an expression of weariness or disgust, but neither weariness
+nor disgust could for an instant dispel from his face the indolence
+which was the dominant and habitual expression not only of his body, but
+also of his very soul. And his soul was frankly and clearly betrayed in
+his eyes, in his smile, in every movement of his head, of his hands.
+
+A cool superficial observer, glancing at Oblomof as he passed him by,
+would have said, "He must be a good-natured, simple-hearted fellow." Any
+one looking deeper, more sympathetically, would after a few moments'
+scrutiny turn away with a smile, with a feeling of agreeable
+uncertainty.
+
+Oblomof's complexion was not florid, not tawny, and not positively
+pallid, but was indeterminate,--or seemed to be so, perhaps because it
+was flabby; not by reason of age, but by lack of exercise or of fresh
+air or of both. His body, to judge by the dull, transparent color of his
+neck, by his little plump hands, his drooping shoulders, seemed too
+effeminate for a man. His movements, even if by chance he were aroused,
+were kept under restraint likewise by a languor and by a laziness that
+was not devoid of its own peculiar grace.
+
+If a shadow of an anxious thought arose from his spirit and passed
+across his face, his eyes would grow troubled, the wrinkles in his brow
+would deepen, a struggle of doubt or pain would seem to begin: but
+rarely indeed would this troubled thought crystallize into the form of a
+definite idea; still more rarely would it be transformed into a
+project.
+
+All anxiety would be dissipated in a sigh and settle down into apathy or
+languid dreaming.
+
+How admirably Oblomof's house costume suited his unruffled features and
+his effeminate body! He wore a dressing-gown of Persian material--a
+regular Oriental _khalat_, without the slightest suggestion of anything
+European about it, having no tassels, no velvet, no special shape. It
+was ample in size, so that he might have wrapped it twice around him.
+The sleeves, in the invariable Asiatic style, grew wider and wider from
+the wrist to the shoulder. Although this garment had lost its first
+freshness, and in places had exchanged its former natural gloss for
+another that was acquired, it still preserved the brilliancy of its
+Oriental coloring and its firmness of texture.
+
+The khalat had in Oblomof's eyes a multitude of precious properties: it
+was soft and supple; the body was not sensible of its weight; like an
+obedient slave, it accommodated itself to every slightest motion.
+
+Oblomof while at home always went without cravat and without waistcoat,
+for the simple reason that he liked simplicity and comfort. The slippers
+which he wore were long, soft, and wide; when without looking he put
+down one foot from the bed to the floor it naturally fell into one of
+them.
+
+Oblomof's remaining in bed was not obligatory upon him, as in the case
+of a sick man or of one who was anxious to sleep; nor was it accidental,
+as in the case of one who was weary; nor was it for mere pleasure, as a
+sluggard would have chosen: it was the normal condition of things with
+him. When he was at home--and he was almost always at home--he
+invariably lay in bed and invariably in the room where we have just
+found him: a room which served him for sleeping-room, library, and
+parlor. He had three other rooms, but he rarely glanced into them; in
+the morning, perhaps, but even then not every day, but only when his man
+came to sweep the rooms--and this, you may be sure, was not done every
+day. In these rooms the furniture was protected with covers; the
+curtains were always drawn.
+
+The room in which Oblomof was lying appeared at first glance to be
+handsomely furnished, There were a mahogany bureau, two sofas
+upholstered in silk, handsome screens embroidered with birds and fruits
+belonging to an imaginary nature. There were damask curtains, rugs, a
+number of paintings, bronzes, porcelains, and a quantity of beautiful
+bric-a-brac. But the experienced eye of a man of pure taste would have
+discovered at a single hasty glance that everything there betrayed
+merely the desire to keep up appearances in unimportant details, while
+really avoiding the burden. That had indeed been Oblomof's object when
+he furnished his room. Refined taste would not have been satisfied with
+those heavy ungraceful mahogany chairs, with those conventional
+etageres. The back of one sofa was dislocated; the veneering was broken
+off in places. The same characteristics were discoverable in the
+pictures and the vases, and all the ornaments.
+
+The proprietor himself, however, looked with such coolness and
+indifference on the decoration of his apartment that one might think he
+asked with his eyes, "Who brought you here and set you up?" As the
+result of such an indifferent manner of regarding his possessions, and
+perhaps of the still more indifferent attitude of Oblomof's servant
+Zakhar, the appearance of the room, if it were examined rather more
+critically, was amazing because of the neglect and carelessness which
+held sway there. On the walls, around the pictures, spiders' webs,
+loaded with dust, hung like festoons; the mirrors, instead of reflecting
+objects, would have served better as tablets for scribbling memoranda in
+the dust that covered them. The rugs were rags. On the sofa lay a
+forgotten towel; on the table you would generally find in the morning a
+plate or two with the remains of the evening meal, the salt-cellar,
+gnawed bones, and crusts of bread. Were it not for these plates, and the
+pipe half smoked out and flung down on the bed, or even the master
+himself stretched out on it, it might easily have been supposed that the
+room was uninhabited, it was so dusty, so lacking in all traces of human
+care. On the etageres, to be sure, lay two or three opened books or a
+crumpled newspaper; on the bureau stood an inkstand with pens; but the
+pages where the books were open were covered thick with dust and had
+turned yellow, evidently long ago thrown aside; the date of the
+newspaper was long past; and if any one had dipped a pen into the
+inkstand it would have started forth only a frightened, buzzing fly!
+
+Ilya Ilyitch was awake, contrary to his ordinary custom, very early,--at
+eight o'clock. Some anxiety was preying on his mind. Over his face
+passed alternately now apprehension, now annoyance, now vexation. It was
+evident that an internal conflict had him in its throes, and his
+intellect had not as yet come to his aid.
+
+The fact was that the evening before, Oblomof had received from the
+starosta (steward) of his estate a letter filled with disagreeable
+tidings. It is not hard to guess what unpleasant details one's steward
+may write about: bad harvests, large arrearages, diminution in receipts,
+and the like. But although his starosta had written his master almost
+precisely the same kind of letter the preceding year and the year before
+that, nevertheless this latest letter came upon him exactly the same, as
+a disagreeable surprise.
+
+Was it not hard?--he was facing the necessity of considering the means
+of taking some measures!
+
+However, it is proper to show how far Ilya Ilyitch was justified in
+feeling anxiety about his affairs.
+
+When he received the first letter of disagreeable tenor from his
+starosta some years before, he was already contemplating a plan for a
+number of changes and improvements in the management of his property.
+This plan presupposed the introduction of various new economical and
+protectional measures; but the details of the scheme were still in
+embryo, and the starosta's disagreeable letters were annually
+forthcoming, urging him to activity and really disturbing his peace of
+mind. Oblomof recognized the necessity of coming to some decision if he
+were to carry out his plan.
+
+As soon as he woke he decided to get up, bathe, and after drinking his
+tea, to think the matter over carefully, then to write his letters; and
+in short, to act in this matter as was fitting. But for half an hour he
+had been still in bed tormenting himself with this proposition; but
+finally he came to the conclusion that he would still have time to do it
+after tea, and that he might drink his tea as usual in bed with all the
+more reason, because one can think even if one is lying down!
+
+And so he did. After his tea he half sat up in bed, but did not entirely
+rise; glancing down at his slippers, he started to put his foot into one
+of them, but immediately drew it back into bed again.
+
+As the clock struck half-past nine, Ilya Ilyitch started up.
+
+"What kind of a man am I?" he said aloud in a tone of vexation.
+"Conscience only knows. It is time to do something: where there's a
+will--Zakhar!" he cried.
+
+In a room which was separated merely by a narrow corridor from Ilya
+Ilyitch's library, nothing was heard at first except the growling of the
+watch-dog; then the thump of feet springing down from somewhere. It was
+Zakhar leaping down from his couch on the stove, where he generally
+spent his time immersed in drowsiness.
+
+An elderly man appeared in the room: he was dressed in a gray coat,
+through a hole under the armpit of which emerged a part of his shirt; he
+also wore a gray waistcoat with brass buttons. His head was as bald as
+his knee, and he had enormous reddish side-whiskers already turning
+gray--so thick and bushy that they would have sufficed for three
+ordinary individuals.
+
+Zakhar would never have taken pains to change in any respect either the
+form which God had bestowed on him, or the costume which he wore in the
+country. His raiment was made for him in the style which he had brought
+with him from his village. His gray coat and waistcoat pleased him, for
+the very reason that in his semi-fashionable attire he perceived a
+feeble approach to the livery which he had worn in former times when
+waiting on his former masters (now at rest), either to church or to
+parties; but liveries in his recollections were merely representative of
+the dignity of the Oblomof family. There was nothing else to recall to
+the old man the comfortable and liberal style of life on the estate in
+the depths of the country. The older generation of masters had died, the
+family portraits were at home, and in all probability were going to rack
+and ruin in the garret; the traditions of the former life and importance
+of the house of Oblomof were all extinct, or lived only in the memories
+of a few old people still lingering in the country.
+
+Consequently, precious in the eyes of Zakhar was the gray coat: in this
+he saw a faint emblem of vanished greatness, and he found similar
+indications in some of the characteristics of his master's features and
+notions, reminding of his parentage, and in his caprices, which although
+he grumbled at them under his breath and aloud, yet he prized secretly
+as manifestations of the truly imperious will and autocratic spirit of a
+born noble. Had it not been for these whims, he would not have felt that
+his master was in any sense above him; had it not been for them, there
+would have been nothing to bring back to his mind his younger days, the
+village which they had abandoned so long ago, and the traditions about
+that ancient home,--the sole chronicles preserved by aged servants,
+nurses, and nursemaids, and handed down from mouth to mouth.
+
+The house of the Oblomofs was rich in those days, and had great
+influence in that region; but afterwards somehow or other everything had
+gone to destruction, and at last by degrees had sunk out of sight,
+overshadowed by parvenus of aristocratic pretensions. Only the few
+gray-haired retainers of the house preserved and interchanged their
+reminiscences of the past, treasuring them like holy relics.
+
+This was the reason why Zakhar so loved his gray coat. Possibly he
+valued his side-whiskers because of the fact that he saw in his
+childhood many of the older servants with this ancient and aristocratic
+adornment.
+
+Ilya Ilyitch, immersed in contemplation, took no notice of Zakhar,
+though the servant had been silently waiting for some time. At last he
+coughed.
+
+"What is it you want?" asked Ilya Ilyitch.
+
+"You called me, didn't you?"
+
+"Called you? I don't remember what I called you for," he replied,
+stretching and yawning. "Go back to your room; I will try to think what
+I wanted."
+
+Zakhar went out, and Ilya Ilyitch lay down on the bed again and began to
+cogitate upon that cursed letter.
+
+A quarter of an hour elapsed.
+
+"There now," he exclaimed, "I have dallied long enough; I must get up.
+However, I must read the starosta's letter over again more attentively,
+and then I will get up--Zakhar!" The same noise of leaping down from the
+stove, and the same growling of the dog, only more emphatic.
+
+Zakhar made his appearance, but again Oblomof was sunk deep in
+contemplation. Zakhar stood a few moments, looking sulkily and askance
+at his master, and finally he turned to go.
+
+"Where are you going?" suddenly demanded Oblomof.
+
+"You have nothing to say to me, and why should I waste my time standing
+here?" explained Zakhar, in a hoarse gasp which served him in lieu of a
+voice, he having lost his voice, according to his own account, while out
+hunting with the dogs when he had to accompany his former master, and
+when a powerful wind seemed to blow in his throat. He half turned round,
+and stood in the middle of the room and glared at his master.
+
+"Have your legs quite given out, that you can't stand a minute? Don't
+you see I am worried? Now, please wait a moment! wasn't it lying there
+just now? Get me that letter which I received last evening from the
+starosta. What did you do with it?"
+
+"What letter? I haven't seen any letter," replied Zakhar.
+
+"Why, you yourself took it from the postman, you scoundrel!"
+
+"It is where you put it; how should I know anything about it?" said
+Zakhar, beginning to rummage about among the papers and various things
+that littered the table.
+
+"You never know anything at all. There, look on the basket. No, see if
+it hasn't been thrown on the sofa.--There, the back of that sofa hasn't
+been mended yet. Why have you not got the carpenter to mend it? 'Twas
+you who broke it. You never think of anything!"
+
+"I didn't break it," retorted Zakhar; "it broke itself; it was not meant
+to last forever; it had to break some time."
+
+Ilya Ilyitch did not consider it necessary to refute this argument. He
+contented himself with asking:--
+
+"Have you found it yet?"
+
+"Here are some letters."
+
+"But they are not the right ones."
+
+"Well, there's nothing else," said Zakhar.
+
+"Very good, be gone," said Ilya Ilyitch impatiently. "I am going to get
+up. I will find it."
+
+Zakhar went to his room, but he had hardly laid his hand on his couch to
+climb up to it before the imperative cry was heard again:--
+
+"Zakhar! Zakhar!"
+
+"Oh, good Lord!" grumbled he, as he started to go for the third time to
+Oblomof's library. "What a torment all this is! Oh that death would come
+and take me from it!"
+
+"What do you want?" he asked, as he stood with one hand on the door, and
+glaring at Oblomof as a sign of his surliness, at such an angle that he
+had to look at his master out of the corner of his eyes; while his
+master could see only one of his enormous side-whiskers, so bushy that
+you might have expected to have two or three birds come flying out from
+them.
+
+"My handkerchief, quick! You might have known what I wanted. Don't you
+see?" remarked Ilya Ilyitch sternly.
+
+Zakhar displayed no special dissatisfaction or surprise at such an order
+or such a reproach on his master's part, regarding both, so far as he
+was concerned, as perfectly natural.
+
+"But who knows where your handkerchief is?" he grumbled, circling about
+the room and making a careful examination of every chair, although it
+could be plainly seen that there was nothing whatever on them.
+
+"It is a perfect waste of time," he remarked, opening the door into the
+drawing-room in order to see if there was any sign of it there.
+
+"Where are you going? Look for it here; I have not been in that room
+since day before yesterday. And make haste," urged Ilya Ilyitch.
+
+"Where is the handkerchief? There isn't any handkerchief," exclaimed
+Zakhar rummaging and searching in every corner.
+
+"Oh, there it is," he suddenly cried angrily, "under you. There is the
+end of it sticking out. You were lying on it, and yet you ask me to find
+your handkerchief for you!"
+
+And Zakhar, without awaiting any reply, turned and started to go out.
+Oblomof was somewhat ashamed of his own blunder. But he quickly
+discovered another pretext for putting Zakhar in the wrong.
+
+"What kind of neatness do you call this everywhere here! Look at the
+dust and dirt! Good heavens! look here, look here! See these corners!
+You don't do anything at all."
+
+"And so I don't do anything," repeated Zakhar in a tone betokening deep
+resentment. "I am growing old, I shan't live much longer! But God knows
+I use the duster for the dust, and I sweep almost every day."
+
+He pointed to the middle of the floor, and at the table where Oblomof
+had dined. "Here, look here," he went on: "it has all been swept and all
+put in order, fit for a wedding. What more is needed?"
+
+"Well then, what is this?" cried Ilya Ilyitch, interrupting him and
+calling his attention to the walls and the ceiling. "And that? and
+that?"
+
+He pointed to a yesterday's napkin which had been flung down, and to a
+plate which had been left lying on the table with a dry crust of bread
+on it.
+
+"Well, as for that," said Zakhar as he picked up the plate, "I will take
+care of it."
+
+"You will take care of it, will you? But how about the dust and the
+cobwebs on the walls?" said Oblomof, making ocular demonstration.
+
+"I put that off till Holy Week; then I clean the sacred images and sweep
+down the cobwebs."
+
+"But how about dusting the books and pictures?"
+
+"The books and pictures? Before Christmas; then Anisiya and I look over
+all the closets. But now when should we be able to do it? You are always
+at home."
+
+"I sometimes go to the theatre or go out to dine: you might--"
+
+"Do house-cleaning at night?"
+
+Oblomof looked at him reproachfully, shook his head, and uttered a sigh;
+but Zakhar gazed indifferently out of the window and also sighed deeply.
+The master seemed to be thinking, "Well, brother, you are even more of
+an Oblomof than I am myself;" while Zakhar probably said to himself,
+"Rubbish! You as my master talk strange and melancholy words, but how do
+dust and cobwebs concern you?"
+
+"Don't you know that moths breed in dust?" asked Ilya Ilyitch. "I have
+even seen bugs on the wall!"
+
+"Well, I have fleas on me sometimes," replied Zakhar in a tone of
+indifference.
+
+"Well, is that anything to boast about? That is shameful," exclaimed
+Oblomof.
+
+Zakhar's face was distorted by a smirking smile, which seemed to embrace
+even his eyebrows and his side-whiskers, which for this reason spread
+apart; and over his whole face up to his very forehead extended a ruddy
+spot.
+
+"Why, am I to blame that there are bugs on the wall?" he asked in
+innocent surprise: "was it I who invented them?"
+
+"They come from lack of cleanliness," insisted Oblomof. "What are you
+talking about?"
+
+"I am not the cause of the uncleanliness."
+
+"But you have mice in your room there running about at night--I hear
+them."
+
+"I did not invent the mice. There are all kinds of living
+creatures--mice and cats and fleas--lots of them everywhere."
+
+"How is it that other people don't have moths and bugs?"
+
+Zakhar's face expressed incredulity, or rather a calm conviction that
+this was not so.
+
+"I have plenty of them," he said without hesitation. "One can't look
+after every bug and crawl into the cracks after them."
+
+It seemed to be his thought, "What kind of a sleeping-room would that be
+that had no bugs in it?"
+
+"Now do you see to it that you sweep and brush them out of the corners;
+don't let there be one left," admonished Oblomof.
+
+"If you get it all cleaned up it will be just as bad again to-morrow,"
+remonstrated Zakhar.
+
+"It ought not to be as bad," interrupted the master.
+
+"But it is," insisted the servant; "I know all about it."
+
+"Well then, if the dust collects again, brush it out again."
+
+"What is that you say? Brush out all the corners every day?" exclaimed
+Zakhar. "What a life that would be! Better were it that God should take
+my soul!"
+
+"Why are other people's houses clean?" urged Oblomof. "Just look at the
+piano-tuner's rooms: see how neat they look, and only one maid--"
+
+"Oh, these Germans!" exclaimed Zakhar suddenly interrupting. "Where do
+they make any litter? Look at the way they live! Every family gnaws a
+whole week on a single bone. The coat goes from the father's back to the
+son's, and back from the son's to the father's. The wives and daughters
+wear little short skirts, and when they walk they all lift up their legs
+like ducks--where do they get any dirt? They don't do as we do--leave a
+whole heap of soiled clothes in the closet for a year at a time, or fill
+up the corners with bread crusts for the winter. Their crusts are never
+flung down at random: they make zweiback out of them, and eat them when
+they drink their beer!"
+
+Zakhar expressed his disgust at such a penurious way of living by
+spitting through his teeth.
+
+"Say nothing more," expostulated Ilya Ilyitch. "Do better work with your
+house-cleaning."
+
+"One time I would have cleaned up, but you yourself would not allow it,"
+said Zakhar.
+
+"That is all done with! Don't you see I have entirely changed?"
+
+"Of course you have; but still you stay at home all the time: how can
+one begin to clean up when you are right here? If you will stay out of
+the house for a whole day, then I will have a general clearing-up."
+
+"What an idea! Get out of here. You had better go to your own room."
+
+"All right!" persisted Zakhar; "but I tell you, the moment you go out,
+Anisiya and I will clear the whole place up. And we two would finish
+with it in short metre; then you will want some women to wash
+everything."
+
+"Oh, what schemes you invent! Women! away with you!" cried Ilya Ilyitch.
+
+He was by this time disgusted with himself for having led Zakhar into
+this conversation. He had quite forgotten that the attainment of this
+delicate object was at the expense of considerable confusion. Oblomof
+would have liked a state of perfect cleanliness, but he would require
+that it should be brought about in some imperceptible manner, as it were
+of itself; but Zakhar always induced a discussion as soon as he was
+asked to have any sweeping done, or the floors washed, and the like. In
+such a contingency he was sure to point out the necessity of a terrible
+disturbance in the house, knowing very well that the mere suggestion of
+such a thing would fill his master with horror.
+
+Zakhar went away, and Oblomof relapsed into cogitation. After some
+minutes the half-hour struck again.
+
+"What time is it?" exclaimed Ilya Ilyitch with a dull sense of alarm.
+"Almost eleven o'clock! Can it be that I am not up yet nor had my bath?
+Zakhar! Zakhar!"
+
+"Oh, good God! what is it now?" was heard from the ante-room, and then
+the well-known thump of feet.
+
+"Is my bath ready?" asked Oblomof.
+
+"Ready? yes, long ago," replied Zakhar. "Why did you not get up?"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me it was ready? I should have got up long ago if
+you had. Go on; I will follow you immediately. I have some business to
+do; I want to write."
+
+Zakhar went out, but in the course of a few minutes he returned with a
+greasy copy-book all scribbled over, and some scraps of paper.
+
+"Here, if you want to write--and by the way, be kind enough to verify
+these accounts: we need the money to pay them."
+
+"What accounts? what money?" demanded Ilya Ilyitch with a show of
+temper.
+
+"From the butcher, from the grocer, from the laundress, from the baker;
+they all are clamoring for money."
+
+"Nothing but bother about money," growled Ilya Ilyitch. "But why didn't
+you give them to me one at a time instead of all at once?"
+
+"You see you always kept putting me off: 'To-morrow,' always
+'To-morrow.'"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't we put them off till to-morrow now?"
+
+"No! they are dunning you; they won't give any longer credit.
+To-morrow's the first of the month."
+
+"Akh!" cried Oblomof in vexation, "new bother! Well, why are you
+standing there? Put them on the table. I will get up immediately, take
+my bath, and look them over," said Ilya Ilyitch. "Is it all ready for my
+bath?"
+
+"What do you mean--'ready'?" said Zakhar.
+
+"Well, now--"
+
+With a groan he started to make the preliminary movement of getting up.
+
+"I forgot to tell you," began Zakhar, "while you were still asleep the
+manager sent word by the dvornik that it was imperatively necessary that
+you vacate the apartment: it is wanted."
+
+"Well, what of that? If the apartment is wanted of course we will move
+out. Why do you bother me with it? This is the third time you have
+spoken to me about it."
+
+"They bother me about it also."
+
+"Tell them that we will move out."
+
+"He says, 'For a month you have been promising,' says he, 'and still you
+don't move out,' says he: 'we'll report the matter to the police.'"
+
+"Let him report," cried Oblomof resolutely: "we will move out as soon as
+it is a little warmer, in the course of three weeks."
+
+"Three weeks, indeed! The manager says that the workmen are coming in a
+fortnight: everything is to be torn out. 'Move,' says he, 'either
+to-morrow or day after to-morrow.'"
+
+"Eh--eh--eh--that's too short notice: to-morrow? See here, what next?
+How would this minute suit? But don't you dare speak a word to me about
+apartments. I have already told you that once, and here you are again.
+Do you hear?"
+
+"But what shall I do?" demanded Zakhar.
+
+"What shall you do? Now how is he going to get rid of me?" replied Ilya
+Ilyitch. "He makes me responsible! How does it concern me? Don't you
+trouble me any further, but make any arrangements you please, only so
+that we don't have to move yet. Can't you do your best for your master?"
+
+"But Ilya Ilyitch, little father [batiushka], what arrangements shall I
+make?" began Zakhar in a hoarse whisper. "The house is not mine; how can
+we help being driven out of the place if they resort to force? If only
+the house were mine, then I would with the greatest pleasure--"
+
+"There must be some way of bringing him around: tell him we have lived
+here so long; tell him we'll surely pay him."
+
+"I have," said Zakhar.
+
+"Well, what did he say?"
+
+"What did he say? He repeated his everlasting 'Move out,' says he; 'we
+want to make repairs on the apartment.' He wants to do over this large
+apartment and the doctor's for the wedding of the owner's son."
+
+"Oh, my good Lord!" exclaimed Oblomof in despair; "what asses they are
+to get married!"
+
+He turned over on his back.
+
+"You had better write to the owner, sir," said Zakhar. "Then perhaps he
+would not drive us out, but would give us a renewal of the lease."
+
+Zakhar as he said this made a gesture with his right hand.
+
+"Very well, then; as soon as I get up I will write him. You go to your
+room and I will think it over. You need not do anything about this," he
+added; "I myself shall have to work at all this miserable business
+myself."
+
+Zakhar left the room, and Oblomof began to ponder.
+
+But he was in a quandary which to think about,--his starosta's letter,
+or the removal to new lodgings, or should he undertake to make out his
+accounts? He was soon swallowed up in the flood of material cares and
+troubles, and there he still lay turning from side to side. Every once
+in a while would be heard his broken exclamation, "Akh, my God! life
+touches everything, reaches everywhere!"
+
+No one knows how long he would have lain there a prey to this
+uncertainty, had not the bell rung in the ante-room.
+
+"There is some one come already!" exclaimed Oblomof, wrapping himself up
+in his khalat, "and here I am not up yet; what a shame! Who can it be so
+early?"
+
+And still lying on his bed, he gazed curiously at the door.
+
+
+
+
+THE BROTHERS DE GONCOURT
+
+EDMOND (1822-1896) JULES (1830-1870)
+
+[Illustration: EDMOND DE GONCOURT]
+
+
+Edmond and Jules Huot De Goncourt, French writers who became famous
+alike for the perfectness of their collaboration, the originality of
+their methods, and the finish of their style, were born, the first in
+Nancy in 1822, the other in Paris in 1830. Until the death of Jules in
+1870 they wrote nothing for the public that did not bear both their
+names; and so entirely identical were their tastes and judgment that it
+is impossible to say of a single sentence they composed that it was the
+sole product of one or the other. "Charming writers," Victor Hugo called
+them; "in unison a powerful writer, two minds from which springs a
+single jet of talent." Born of a noble family of moderate wealth, they
+were educated as became their station in life. Both had an early leaning
+toward the arts; but Edmond, in deference to the wishes of his family,
+took a government appointment and held the office till the death of his
+mother, when he was twenty-six years of age. Their father had died while
+they were boys.
+
+Drawn together by their common bereavement and the death-bed injunction
+of their parent that Edmond should be the careful guardian of his
+younger brother, whose health had always been delicate, the young men
+then began a companionship which was broken only by death. They set out
+to make themselves acquainted with southern Europe, and at the same time
+to escape the political turmoils of Paris; and extended their travels
+into Africa, which country they found so congenial that in the first
+ardor of their enthusiasm they determined to settle there. Business
+arrangements, however, soon recalled them to Paris, where ties of
+friendship and other agreeable associations bound them fast to their
+native soil. They took up their residence in the metropolis, where they
+lived until a short time before the death of Jules, when, to be free
+from the roar of the city, they purchased a house in one of the suburbs.
+Their intellectual development may be traced through their Journal and
+letters to intimate friends, published by the surviving brother. From
+these it appears that most of their leisure hours during their travels
+were taken up with painting and drawing. Jules had attempted some
+dramatic compositions while at college, and Edmond had been strongly
+drawn to literature by the conversation of an aunt, of whom he saw much
+before his mother's death. It was while engaged with their brushes in
+1850 that it occurred to the brothers to take up writing as a regular
+vocation; and thus was begun their remarkable literary partnership.
+
+Their first essay was a drama. It was rejected; whereupon, nothing
+daunted, they wrote a novel. It was entitled '18--,' and it is
+interesting to observe that here, at the very outset of their career,
+they seem to have had in mind the keynote of the chord on which they
+ever afterwards played: the eighteenth century was the chief source of
+their inspiration, and it was their life's endeavor to explore it and
+reproduce it for their contemporaries with painstaking fidelity. The
+novel engaged their serious and earnest attention, and when it was given
+to the publisher they watched for its appearance with painful anxiety.
+Unfortunately it was announced for the very day on which occurred the
+_Coup d'Etat_. The book came out when Paris was in an uproar; and though
+Jules Janin, one of the most influential critics of the day,
+unexpectedly exploited it at great length in the Journal des Debats, its
+circulation in that first edition was not more than sixty copies, most
+of which were distributed gratuitously.
+
+The blow was a hard one, but the brothers were not thus to be silenced,
+nor by the subsequent failure of other dramatic ventures and an effort
+to found a newspaper. They had been little more than imitators. They now
+entered the field they soon made their own. The writers of their day
+were for the most part classicists; a few before Victor Hugo were
+romanticists. The De Goncourts stood for the modern, what they could see
+and touch. In this way they became realists. What their own senses could
+not apprehend they at once rejected; all they saw they deemed worthy to
+be reproduced. They lived in a period of reconstruction after the
+devastation of the revolution. The refinement and elegance of the
+society of the later Bourbon monarchy, still within view, they yearned
+for and sought to restore. A series of monographs dealing with the art
+and the stage of these days, which appeared in 1851-2, won for them the
+first real recognition they enjoyed. These were followed by various
+critical essays on the same subjects, contributed to newspapers and
+periodicals, and a novel, 'La Lorette,' which had a large sale and
+marked the beginning of their success from a financial point of view.
+"This makes us realize," they wrote in their Journal, "that one can
+actually sell a book."
+
+Their reputation as men of letters was established by the publication in
+1854-5 of 'Histoire de la Societe Pendant la Revolution' and the same
+'Pendant le Directoire' the aim of which, they said, was "to paint in
+vivid, simple colors the France of 1789 to 1800." This object they
+accomplished, so far as it concerned the society of which they
+themselves were descendants; but the reactionary spirit in them was too
+strong for an impartial view of the struggle, and their lack of true
+philosophic spirit and broad human sympathy led them to make a picture
+that, interesting as it is, is sadly distorted. Their vivid colors are
+lavished mainly on the outrages of the rioters and the sufferings of the
+aristocrats. But for wealth of detail, the result of tireless research,
+the history is of value as a record of the manners and customs of the
+fashionable set of the period. Of the same sort were their other
+semi-historical works: 'Portraits Intimes du XVIIIieme Siecle,' separate
+sketches of about a hundred more or less well-known figures of the age;
+'L'Histoire de Marie Antoinette,' and 'La Femme au XVIIIieme Siecle,' in
+which the gossip and anecdote of former generations are told again
+almost as graphically as are those which the authors relate of their own
+circle in their memoirs. Their most important contribution to literature
+was their 'L'Art au XVIIIieme Siecle,' monographs gathered and published
+in seventeen volumes, and representing a dozen years' labor. This was
+indeed a labor of love, and it was not in vain; for it was these
+appreciative studies more than anything else that turned public
+attention to the almost forgotten delicacy of the school of painters
+headed by Watteau, Fragonard, Latour, Boucher, Debricourt, and Greuze,
+whose influence has ever since been manifested on the side of sound
+taste and sanity in French art.
+
+A volume entitled 'Idees et Sensations,' and their Journal and letters,
+complete the list of the more important of their works outside the field
+of fiction. The Journal will always be valuable as an almost complete
+document of the literary history of France in their time, made up as it
+is of impressions of and from the most important writers of the day,
+with whom they were on terms of intimate friendship, including Flaubert,
+Gautier, Renan, Sainte-Beuve, Hugo, Saint-Victor, Michelet, Zola, and
+George Sand. In fiction the De Goncourts were less prolific, but it is
+to their novels mainly that they owe their reputation for individuality,
+and as true "path-breakers" in literature. They have been called the
+initiators of modern French realism. Their friend Flaubert perhaps
+better deserves the title. Their determination to see for themselves all
+that could be seen, the result of which gave real worth to their
+historical work, even where their prejudice robbed it of weight, was
+what put the stamp of character upon their novels. How much importance
+they attached to correct and comprehensive observation may be gathered
+from their remark, "The art of learning how to see demands the longest
+apprenticeship of all the arts." They took life as they found it,
+examined it on every side,--rarely going far under the surface,--and
+then sought to reproduce it on their pages as the artist would put it on
+canvas. Capable of terseness, of suggestiveness, quick to note and
+communicate the vital spark, they were yet rarely content with it alone.
+Every minute particle of the body it vivified, they insisted on adding
+to their picture. Nothing was to be taken for granted; as nothing was
+accepted by them at second hand, so nothing was left to the imagination
+of the reader until their comprehensive view was his. It was in this way
+that they were realists. They did not seek out and expose to public view
+the grossness and unpleasantness of life. Their own preference was for
+the beautiful, and in their own lives they indulged their refined
+tastes. But they looked squarely at the world about them, the ugly with
+the beautiful, the impure with the pure, and they did not hesitate to
+describe one almost as faithfully as the other.
+
+Curiously, the discrimination against the masses and the bias that mar
+their history do not appear in their fiction. "They began writing
+history which was nothing but romance," says one of their critics, "and
+later wrote romance which in reality is history." Indeed, their novels
+are little more than sketches of what occurred around them. 'Madame
+Gervaisais' is a character study of the aunt of strong literary
+predilections who influenced Edmond; 'Germinie Lacerteux' is the
+biography of their servant, at whose death, after long and faithful
+service, they discovered that she had led a life of singular duplicity;
+'Soeur Philomene' is a terribly true glimpse of hospital life, and
+'Manette Salomon,' with its half-human monkey drawn from the life, is
+transferred without change from the Parisian studios under the Empire.
+'Renee Mauperin' comes nearest to the model of an ordinary novel; but no
+one can read of the innocent tomboy girl struck down with fatal remorse
+at the consequences of her own natural action, on learning of her
+brother's dishonor, without feeling that this picture too was drawn from
+the life. Several of their stories were dramatized, but with scant
+success; and a play which they wrote, 'Henriette Marechal' and had
+produced at the Comedie Francaise through the influence of Princess
+Mathilde, their constant friend and patroness, was almost howled
+down,--chiefly however for political reasons.
+
+After the death of Jules de Goncourt, his brother wrote several books of
+the same character as those which they produced in union, the best known
+of which are 'La Fille Elisa,' and 'Cherie,' a study of a girl, said to
+have been inspired by the Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff. The best
+critics in France, notably Sainte-Beuve, have given the brothers
+Goncourt a very high place in literature and conceded their originality.
+English reviewers have been less ready to exalt them, mainly on account
+of the offensive part of their realism. They have objected also to their
+superficiality as historians, and to their sympathy with the sentimental
+admirers of such types as Marie Antoinette; but they too have been ready
+to praise the brothers as leaders of a new fashion, and especially for
+their devotion to style. In this respect the Goncourts have few rivals
+in French literature. Balzac himself was not more finical in the choice
+of words, or more unsparing of his time and energy in writing and
+re-writing until his exact meaning, no more or less, had been expressed;
+and they covered up the marks of their toil better than he. In a letter
+to Zola, Edmond de Goncourt said:--"My own idea is that my brother died
+of work, and above all from the desire to elaborate the artistic form,
+the chiseled phrase, the workmanship of style." He himself spent a long
+life at this fine artistry, and died in Paris in July, 1896.
+
+
+
+TWO FAMOUS MEN
+
+From the Journal of the De Goncourts
+
+
+March 3D [1862].--We took a walk and went off to find Theophile
+Gautier.... The street in which he lives is composed of the most squalid
+countrified buildings, of court-yards swarming with poultry, fruit shops
+whose doors are ornamented with little brooms of black feathers: just
+such a suburban street as Hervier might have painted.... We pushed open
+the door of a house, and found ourselves in the presence of the lord of
+epithet. The furniture was of gilded wood, covered with red damask,
+after the heavy Venetian style; there were fine old pictures of the
+Italian school; above the chimney a mirror innocent of quicksilver, on
+which were scraped colored arabesques and various Persian
+characters,--such a picture of meagre sumptuousness and faded splendor
+as one would find in the rooms of a retired actress, who had come in for
+some pictures through the bankruptcy of an Italian manager.
+
+When we asked him if we were disturbing him, he answered: "Not at all. I
+never work at home. I get through my 'copy' at the printing-office. They
+set up the type as I write. The smell of the printers' ink is a sure
+stimulant to work, for one feels the 'copy' must be handed in. I could
+write only a novel in this way now; unless I saw ten lines printed I
+could not get on to the next ten. The proof-sheet serves as a test to
+one's work. That which is already done becomes impersonal, but the
+actual 'copy' is part of yourself; it hangs like filaments from the root
+of your literary life, and has not yet been torn away. I have always
+been preparing corners where I should do my work, but when installed
+there I found I could do nothing. I must be in the midst of things, and
+can work only when a racket is going on about me; whereas, when I shut
+myself up for work the solitude tells upon me and makes me sad."
+
+From there Gautier got on the subject of the 'Queen of Sheba.' We
+admitted our infirmity, our physical incapacity of taking in musical
+sound; and indeed, a military band is the highest musical enjoyment of
+which we are capable. Whereupon Gautier said, "Well, I'm delighted to
+hear that: I am just like you; I prefer silence to music. I do know bad
+music from good, because part of my life was spent with a singer, but
+both are quite indifferent to me. Still it is curious that all the
+literary men of our day feel the same about music. Balzac abhorred it,
+Hugo cannot endure it, Lamartine has a horror of it. There are only a
+few painters who have a taste for it."
+
+Then Gautier fell to complaining of the times. "Perhaps I am getting an
+old man, but I begin to feel as if there were no more air to breathe.
+What is the use of wings if there is no air in which one can soar? I no
+longer feel as if I belonged to the present generation. Yes, 1830 was a
+glorious epoch, but I was too young by two or three years; I was not
+carried away by the current; I was not ready for it. I ought to have
+produced a very different sort of work."
+
+There was then some talk of Flaubert, of his literary methods, of his
+indefatigable patience, and of the seven years he devoted to a work of
+four hundred pages. "Just listen," observed Gautier, "to what Flaubert
+said to me the other day: 'It is finished. I have only ten more pages to
+write; but the ends of my sentences are all in my head.' So that he
+already hears in anticipation the music of the last words of his
+sentences before the sentences themselves have been written. Was it not
+a quaint expression to use? I believe he has devised a sort of literary
+rhythm. For instance, a phrase which begins in slow measure must not
+finish with a quick pace, unless some special effect is to be produced.
+Sometimes the rhythm is only apparent to himself, and escapes our
+notice. A story is not written for the purpose of being read aloud: yet
+he shouts his to himself as he writes them. These shouts present to his
+own ears harmonies, but his readers seem unaware of them."
+
+Gautier's daughters have a charm of their own, a species of Oriental
+languor, deep dreamy eyes, veiled by heavy eyelids, and a regularity in
+their gestures and movements which they inherit from their father; but
+this regularity is tempered in them by womanly grace. There is a charm
+about them which is not all French; nevertheless there is a French
+element about it, their little tomboyish tricks and expressions, their
+habit of pouting, the shrugging of their shoulders, the irony which
+escapes through the thin veil of childishness intended to conceal it.
+All these points distinguish them from ordinary society girls, and make
+clear a strong individuality of character which renders them fearless in
+expressing their likings and antipathies. They display liberty of
+speech, and have often the manner of a woman whose face is hidden by a
+mask; and yet one finds here simplicity, candor, and a charming absence
+of reserve, utterly unknown to the ordinary young girl.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+November 23D [1863].--We have been to thank Michelet for the flattering
+lines he wrote about us.
+
+He lives in the Rue de l'Ouest, at the end of the Jardin du Luxembourg,
+in a large house which might almost be workmen's dwellings. His flat is
+on the third floor. A maid opened the door and announced us. We
+penetrated into a small study.
+
+The wife of the historian has a young, serious face; she was seated on a
+chair beside the desk on which the lamp was placed, with her back to the
+window. Michelet sat on a couch of green velvet, and was banked up by
+cushions.
+
+His attitude reminded us of his historical work: the lower portions of
+his body were in full sight, whilst the upper were half concealed; the
+face was a mere shadow surrounded with snowy white locks; from this
+shadowy mass emerged a professorial, sonorous, singsong voice,
+consciously important, and in which the ascending and descending scale
+produced a continuous cooing sound.
+
+He spoke to us in a most appreciative manner of our study of Watteau,
+and then passed on to the interesting study which might be written on
+French furniture.
+
+"You gentlemen, who are observers of human nature," he cried suddenly,
+"there is a history you should write,--the history of the lady's-maid. I
+do not speak of Madame de Maintenon; but you have Mademoiselle de
+Launai, the Duchesse de Grammont's Julie, who exercised on her mistress
+so great an influence, especially in the Corsican affair. Madame Du
+Deffand said sometimes that there were only two people sincerely
+attached to her, D'Alembert and her maid. Oh! domesticity has played a
+great part in history, though men-servants have been of comparative
+unimportance....
+
+"I was once going through England, traveling from York to Halifax. There
+were pavements in the country lanes, with the grass growing on each side
+as carefully kept as the pavements themselves; close by, sheep were
+grazing, and the whole scene was lit up by gas. A singular sight!"
+
+Then after a short pause:--"Have you noticed that the physiognomy of the
+great men of to-day is so rarely in keeping with their intellect? Look
+at their portraits, their photographs: there are no longer any good
+portraits. Remarkable people no longer possess in their faces anything
+which distinguishes them from ordinary folk. Balzac had nothing
+characteristic. Would you recognize Lamartine if you saw him? There is
+nothing in the shape of his head, or in his lustreless eyes, nothing but
+a certain elegance which age has not affected. The fact is that in these
+days there is too great an accumulation of people and things, much more
+so than in former times. We assimilate too much from other people, and
+this being the case, we lose even the individuality of our features; we
+present the portrait of a collective set of people rather than of
+ourselves."
+
+We rose to take our leave; he accompanied us to the door; then by the
+light of the lamp he carried in his hand we saw, for a second at least,
+this marvelous historian of dreams, the great somnambulist of the past
+and brilliant talker of the present.
+
+
+
+THE SUICIDE
+
+From 'Sister Philomene'
+
+
+The next morning the whole hospital knew that Barnier, having scratched
+his hand on the previous day while dissecting a body in a state of
+purulent infection, was dying in terrible agonies.
+
+When at four o'clock Malivoire, quitting for a few moments the bedside
+of his friend, came to replace him in the service, the Sister went up to
+him. She followed from bed to bed, dogging his steps, without however
+accosting him, without speaking, watching him intently with her eyes
+fixed on his. As he was leaving the ward:--
+
+"Well?" she asked, in the brief tone with which women stop the doctor on
+his last visit at the threshold of the room.
+
+"No hope," said Malivoire, with a gesture of despair; "there is nothing
+to be done. It began at his right ankle, went up the leg and thigh, and
+has attacked all the articulations. Such agonies, poor fellow! It will
+be a mercy when it's over."
+
+"Will he be dead before night?" asked the Sister calmly.
+
+"Oh no! He will live through the night. It is the same case as that of
+Raguideau three years ago; and Raguideau lasted forty-eight hours."
+
+That evening, at ten o'clock, Sister Philomene might be seen entering
+the church of Notre Dame des Victoires.
+
+The lamps were being lowered, the lighted tapers were being put out one
+by one with a long-handled extinguisher. The priest had just left the
+vestry.
+
+The Sister inquired where he lived, and was told that his house was a
+couple of steps from the church, in the Rue de la Banque.
+
+The priest was just going into the house when she entered behind,
+pushing open the door he was closing.
+
+"Come in, Sister," he said, unfurling his wet umbrella and placing it on
+the tiled floor in the ante-room. And he turned toward her. She was on
+her knees. "What are you doing, Sister?" he said, astonished at her
+attitude. "Get up, my child. This is not a fit place. Come, get up!"
+
+"You will save him, will you not?" and Philomene caught hold of the
+priest's hands as he stretched them out to help her to rise. "Why do you
+object to my remaining on my knees?"
+
+"Come, come, my child, do not be so excited. It is God alone, remember,
+who can save. I can but pray."
+
+"Ah! you can only pray," she said in a disappointed tone. "Yes, that is
+true."
+
+And her eyes sank to the ground. After a moment's pause the priest went
+on:--
+
+"Come, Sister, sit down there. You are calmer now, are you not? Tell me,
+what is it you want?"
+
+"He is dying," said Philomene, rising as she spoke. "He will probably
+not live through the night;" and she began to cry. "It is for a young
+man of twenty-seven years of age; he has never performed any of his
+religious duties, never been near a church, never prayed to God since
+his first communion. He will refuse to listen to anything. He no longer
+knows a prayer even. He will listen neither to priest nor any one. And I
+tell you it is all over with him,--he is dying. Then I remembered your
+Confraternity of Notre Dame des Victoires, since it is devoted to those
+who do not believe. Come, you must save him!"
+
+"My daughter--"
+
+"And perhaps he is dying at this very moment. Oh! promise me you will do
+all at once, all that is in the Confraternity book; the
+prayers,--everything, in short. You will have him prayed for at once,
+won't you?"
+
+"But, my poor child, it is Friday to-day, and the Confraternity only
+meets on Thursday."
+
+"Thursday only--why? It will be too late Thursday. He will never live
+till Thursday. Come, you must save him; you have saved many another."
+
+Sister Philomene looked at the priest with wide-opened eyes, in which
+through her tears rose a glance of revolt, impatience, and command. For
+one instant in that room there was no longer a Sister standing before a
+priest, but a woman face to face with an old man.
+
+The priest resumed:--
+
+"All I can do at present for that young man, my dear daughter, is to
+apply to his benefit all the prayers and good works that are being
+carried on by the Confraternity, and I will offer them up to the Blessed
+and Immaculate Heart of Mary to obtain his conversion. I will pray for
+him to-morrow at mass, and again on Saturday and Sunday."
+
+"Oh, I am so thankful," said Philomene, who felt tears rise gently to
+her eyes as the priest spoke to her. "Now I am full of hope; he will be
+converted, he will have pity on himself. Give me your blessing for him."
+
+"But Sister, I only bless from the altar, in the pulpit, or in the
+confessional. There only am I the minister of God. Here, my Sister, here
+I am but a weak man, a miserable sinner."
+
+"That does not signify; you are always God's minister, and you cannot,
+you would not, refuse me; he is at the point of death."
+
+She fell on her knees as she spoke. The priest blessed her, and added:--
+
+"It is nearly eleven o'clock, Sister; you have nearly three miles to get
+home, all Paris to cross at this late hour."
+
+"Oh, I am not afraid," replied Philomene with a smile; "God knows why I
+am in the street. Moreover, I will tell my beads on the way. The Blessed
+Virgin will be with me."...
+
+The same evening, Barnier, rousing himself from a silence that had
+lasted the whole day, said to Malivoire, "You will write to my mother.
+You will tell her that this often happens in our profession."
+
+"But you are not yet as bad as all that, my dear fellow," replied
+Malivoire, bending over the bed. "I am sure I shall save you."
+
+"No, I chose my man too well for that. How well I took you in, my poor
+Malivoire!" and he smiled almost. "You understand, I could not kill
+myself. I did not wish to be the death of my old mother. But an
+accident--that settles everything. You will take all my books, do you
+hear? and my case of instruments also. I wish you to have all. You
+wonder why I have killed myself, don't you? Come nearer. It is on
+account of that woman. I never loved but her in all my life. They did
+not give her enough chloroform; I told them so. Ah! if you had heard her
+scream when she awoke--before it was over! That scream still re-echoes
+in my ears! However," he continued, after a nervous spasm, "if I had to
+begin again, I would choose some other way of dying, some way in which I
+should not suffer so much. Then, you know, she died, and I fancied I had
+killed her. She is ever before me,... covered with blood.... And then I
+took to drinking. I drank because I love her still.... That's all!"
+
+Barnier relapsed into silence. After a long pause, he again spoke, and
+said to Malivoire:--
+
+"You will tell my mother to take care of the little lad."
+
+After another pause, the following words escaped him:--
+
+"The Sister would have said a prayer."
+
+Shortly after, he asked:--
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Eleven."
+
+"Time is not up yet;... I have still some hours to live.... I shall last
+till to-morrow."
+
+A little later he again inquired the time, and crossing his hands on his
+breast, in a faint voice he called Malivoire and tried to speak to him.
+But Malivoire could not catch the words he muttered.
+
+Then the death-rattle began, and lasted till morn....
+
+A candle lighted up the room.
+
+It burnt slowly, it lighted up the four white walls on which the coarse
+ochre paint of the door and of the two cupboards cut a sharp
+contrast....
+
+On the iron bedstead with its dimity curtains, a sheet lay thrown over a
+motionless body, molding the form as wet linen might do, indicating with
+the inflexibility of an immutable line the rigidity, from the tip of the
+toes to the sharp outline of the face, of what it covered.
+
+Near a white wooden table Malivoire, seated in a large wicker arm-chair,
+watched and dozed, half slumbering and yet not quite asleep.
+
+In the silence of the room nothing could be heard but the ticking of the
+dead man's watch.
+
+From behind the door something seemed gently to move and advance, the
+key turned in the lock, and Sister Philomene stood beside the bed.
+Without looking at Malivoire, without seeing him, she knelt down and
+prayed in the attitude of a kneeling marble statue; and the folds of her
+gown were as motionless as the sheet that covered the dead man.
+
+At the end of a quarter of an hour she rose, walked away without once
+looking round, and disappeared.
+
+The next day, awaking at the hollow sound of the coffin knocking against
+the narrow stairs, Malivoire vaguely recalled the night's apparition,
+and wondered if he had dreamed it; and going mechanically up to the
+table by the bedside, he sought for the lock of hair he had cut off for
+Barnier's mother: the lock of hair had vanished.
+
+
+
+THE AWAKENING
+
+From 'Renee Mauperin'
+
+
+A little stage had been erected at the end of the Mauperins'
+drawing-room. The footlights were hidden behind a screen of foliage and
+flowering shrubs. Renee, with the help of her drawing-master, had
+painted the curtain, which represented a view on the banks of the Seine.
+On either side of the stage hung a bill, on which were these words,
+written by hand:--
+
+    LA BRICHE THEATRE
+    THIS EVENING,
+
+    'THE CAPRICE,'
+
+    To conclude with
+    'HARLEQUIN, A BIGAMIST.'
+
+And then followed the names of the actors.
+
+On all the chairs in the house, which had been seized and arranged in
+rows before the stage, women in low gowns were squeezed together, mixing
+their skirts, their lace, the sparkle of their diamonds, and the
+whiteness of their shoulders. The folding doors of the drawing-room had
+been taken down, and showed, in the little drawing-room which led to the
+dining-room, a crowd of men in white neckties, standing on tiptoe.
+
+The curtain rose upon 'The Caprice.' Renee played with much spirit the
+part of Madame de Lery. Henry, as the husband, revealed one of those
+real theatrical talents which are often found in cold young men and in
+grave men of the world. Naomi herself--carried away by Henry's acting,
+carefully prompted by Denoisel from behind the scenes, a little
+intoxicated by her audience--played her little part of a neglected wife
+very tolerably. This was a great relief to Madame Bourjot. Seated in the
+front row, she had followed her daughter with anxiety. Her pride dreaded
+a failure. The curtain fell, the applause burst out, and all the company
+were called for. Her daughter had not been ridiculous; she was happy in
+this great success, and she composedly gave herself up to the speeches,
+opinions, congratulations, which, as in all representations of private
+theatricals, followed the applause and continued in murmurs. Amidst all
+that she thus vaguely heard, one sentence, pronounced close by her,
+reached her ears clear and distinct above the buzz of general
+conversation:--"Yes, it is his sister, I know; but I think that for the
+part he is not sufficiently in love with her, and really too much in
+love with his wife: did you notice it?" And the speaker, feeling that
+she was being overheard by Madame Bourjot, leaned over and whispered in
+her neighbor's ear. Madame Bourjot became serious.
+
+After a pause the curtain went up again, and Henry Mauperin appeared as
+Pierrot or Harlequin, not in the traditional sack of white calico and
+black cap, but as an Italian harlequin, with a white three-cornered hat,
+and dressed entirely in white satin from head to foot. A shiver of
+interest ran through the women, proving that the costume and the man
+were both charming; and the folly began.
+
+It was the mad story of Pierrot, married to one woman and wishing to
+marry another; a farce intermingled with passion, which had been
+unearthed by a playwright, with the help of a poet, from a collection of
+old comic plays. Renee this time acted the part of the neglected woman,
+who in various disguises interfered between her husband and his gallant
+adventures, and Naomi that of the woman he loved. Henry, in his scenes
+of love with the latter, carried all before him. He played with youth,
+with brilliancy, with excitement. In the scene in which he avows his
+love, his voice was full of the passionate cry of a declaration which
+overflows and swamps everything. True, he had to act with the prettiest
+Columbine in the world: Naomi looked delicious that evening in her
+bridal costume of Louis XVI., copied exactly from the 'Bride's Minuet,'
+a print by Debucourt, which Barousse had lent for the purpose.
+
+A sort of enchantment filled the whole room, and reached Madame Bourjot;
+a sort of sympathetic complicity with the actors seemed to encourage the
+pretty couple to love one another. The piece went on. Now and again
+Henry's eyes seemed to look for those of Madame Bourjot, over the
+footlights. Meanwhile, Renee appeared disguised as the village bailiff;
+it only remained to sign the contract; Pierrot, taking the hand of the
+woman he loved, began to tell her of all the happiness he was going to
+have with her.
+
+The woman who sat next to Madame Bourjot felt her lean somewhat on her
+shoulder. Henry finished his speech, the piece disentangled itself and
+came to an end. All at once Madame Bourjot's neighbor saw something
+glide down her arm; it was Madame Bourjot, who had just fainted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, do pray go indoors," said Madame Bourjot to the people who were
+standing around her. She had been carried into the garden. "It is past
+now; it is really nothing; it was only the heat." She was quite pale,
+but she smiled. "I only want a little air. Let M. Henry only stay with
+me."
+
+The audience retired. Scarcely had the sound of feet died away,
+when--"You love her!" said Madame Bourjot, seizing Henry's arm as though
+she were taking him prisoner with her feverish hands; "you love her!"
+
+"Madame--" said Henry.
+
+"Hold your tongue! you lie!" And she threw his arm from her. Henry
+bowed.--"I know all. I have seen all. But look at me!" and with her eyes
+she closely scanned his face. Henry stood before her, his head
+bent.--"At least speak to me! You can speak, at any rate! Ah, I see
+it,--you can only act in her company!"
+
+"I have nothing to say to you, Laura," said Henry in his softest and
+clearest voice. Madame Bourjot started at this name of Laura as though
+he had touched her. "I have struggled for a year, madame," began Henry;
+"I have no excuse to make. But my heart is fast. We knew each other as
+children. The charm has grown day by day. I am very unhappy, madame, at
+having to acknowledge the truth to you. I love your daughter, that is
+true."
+
+"But have you ever spoken to her? I blush for her when there are people
+there! Have you ever looked at her? Do you think her pretty? What
+possesses you men? Come! I am better-looking than she is! You men are
+fools. And besides, my friend, I have spoiled you. Go to her and ask her
+to caress your pride, to tickle your vanity, to flatter and to serve
+your ambitions,--for you are ambitious: I know you! Ah, M. Mauperin, one
+can only find that once in a lifetime! And it is only women of my age,
+old women like me,--do you hear me?--who love the future of the people
+whom they love! You were not my lover, you were my grandchild!" And at
+this word, her voice sounded as though it came from the bottom of her
+heart. Then immediately changing her tone--"But don't be foolish! I tell
+you you don't really love my daughter; it is not true: she is rich!"
+
+"O madame!"
+
+"Good gracious! there are lots of people. They have been pointed out to
+me. It pays sometimes to begin with the mother and finish with the
+dower. And a million, you know, will gild a good many pills."
+
+"Speak lower, I implore--for your own sake: some one has just opened a
+window."
+
+"Calmness is very fine, M. Mauperin, very fine, very fine," repeated
+Madame Bourjot. And her low, hissing voice seemed to stifle her.
+
+Clouds were scudding across the sky, and passed over the moon looking
+like huge bats' wings. Madame Bourjot gazed fixedly into the darkness,
+straight in front of her. Her elbows resting on her knees, her weight
+thrown on to her heels, she was beating with the points of her satin
+shoes the gravel of the path. After a few minutes she sat upright,
+stretched out her arms two or three times wildly and as though but half
+awake; then, hastily and with jerks, she pushed her hand down between
+her gown and her waistband, pressing her hand against the ribbon as
+though she would break it. Then she rose and began to walk. Henry
+followed her.
+
+"I intend, sir, that we shall never see each other again," she said to
+him, without turning round.
+
+As they passed near the basin, she handed him her handkerchief:--
+
+"Wet that for me."
+
+Henry put one knee on the margin and gave her back the lace, which he
+had moistened. She laid it on her forehead and on her eyes. "Now let us
+go in," she said; "give me your arm."
+
+"Oh, dear madame, what courage!" said Madame Mauperin, going to meet
+Madame Bourjot as she entered; "but it is unwise of you. Let me order
+your carriage."
+
+"On no account," answered Madame Bourjot hastily: "I thank you. I
+promised that I would sing for you, I think. I am going to sing."
+
+And Madame Bourjot advanced to the piano, graceful and valiant, with the
+heroic smile on her face wherewith the actors of society hide from the
+public the tears that they shed within themselves, and the wounds which
+are only known to their own hearts.
+
+
+
+
+EDMUND GOSSE
+
+(1849-)
+
+
+Edmund William Gosse, or Edmund Gosse, to give him the name he has of
+late years adopted, is a Londoner, the son of P.H. Gosse, an English
+zoologist of repute. His education did not embrace the collegiate
+training, but he was brought up amid cultured surroundings, read
+largely, and when but eighteen was appointed an assistant librarian in
+the British Museum, at the age of twenty-six receiving the position of
+translator to the Board of Trade. Gosse is a good example of the
+cultivated man of letters who fitted himself thoroughly for his
+profession, though lacking the formal scholastic drill of the
+university.
+
+He began as a very young man to write for the leading English
+periodicals, contributing papers and occasional poems to the Saturday
+Review, Academy, and Cornhill Magazine, and soon gaining critical
+recognition. In 1872 and 1874 he traveled in Scandinavia and Holland,
+making literary studies which bore fruit in one of his best critical
+works. He made his literary bow when twenty-one with the volume
+'Madrigals, Songs, and Sonnets' (1870), which was well received, winning
+praise from Tennyson. His essential qualities as a verse-writer appear
+in it: elegance and care of workmanship, close study of nature, felicity
+in phrasing, and a marked tendency to draw on literary culture for
+subject and reference. Other works of poetry, 'On Viol and Flute'
+(1873), 'New Poems' (1879), 'Firdausi in Exile' (1885), 'In Russet and
+Gold' (1894), with the dramas 'King Erik' (1876) and 'The Unknown Lover'
+(1878), show an increasingly firm technique and a broadening of outlook,
+with some loss of the happy singing quality which characterized the
+first volume. Gosse as a poet may be described as a lyrist with
+attractive descriptive powers. Together with his fellow poets Lang and
+Dobson, he revived in English verse the old French metrical forms, such
+as the roundel, triolet, and ballade, and he has been very receptive to
+the new in literary form and thought, while keeping a firm grip on the
+classic models.
+
+As an essayist, Gosse is one of the most accomplished and agreeable of
+modern English writers; he has comprehensive culture and catholic
+sympathy, and commands a picturesque style, graceful and rich without
+being florid. His 'Studies in the Literature of Northern Europe' (1879)
+introduced Ibsen and other little-known foreign writers to British
+readers.
+
+Gosse has been a thorough student of English literature prior to the
+nineteenth century, and has made a specialty of the literary history of
+the eighteenth century, his series of books in this field
+including--'Seventeenth-Century Studies' (1883), 'From Shakespeare to
+Pope' (1885), 'The Literature of the Eighteenth Century' (1889), 'The
+Jacobean Poets' (1894), to which may be added the volume of
+contemporaneous studies 'Critical Kit-Kats' (1896). Some of these books
+are based on the lectures delivered by Gosse as Clark Lecturer at
+Trinity College, Cambridge. He has also written biographies of Sir
+Walter Raleigh and Congreve, and his 'Life of Thomas Gray' (1882) and
+'Works of Thomas Gray' (1884) comprise the best edition and
+setting-forth of that poet. In such labors as that of the editing of
+Heinemann's 'International Library,' his influence has been salutary in
+the popularization of the best literature of the world. His interest in
+Ibsen led him to translate, in collaboration with William Archer, the
+dramatic critic of London, the Norwegian's play 'The Master Builder.'
+
+Edmund Gosse, as editor, translator, critic, and poet, has done varied
+and excellent work. Sensitive to many literatures, and to good
+literature everywhere, he has remained stanchly English in spirit, and
+has combined scholarship with popular qualities of presentation. He has
+thus contributed not a little to the furtherance of literature in
+England.
+
+     [The poems are all taken from 'On Viol and Flute,' published
+     by Henry Holt & Co., New York.]
+
+
+
+FEBRUARY IN ROME
+
+
+  When Roman fields are red with cyclamen,
+    And in the palace gardens you may find,
+    Under great leaves and sheltering briony-bind,
+  Clusters of cream-white violets, oh then
+  The ruined city of immortal men
+    Must smile, a little to her fate resigned,
+    And through her corridors the slow warm wind
+  Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken.
+  Such soft favonian airs upon a flute,
+    Such shadowy censers burning live perfume,
+    Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb;
+  Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit,
+  Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute,
+    Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome.
+
+
+
+DESIDERIUM
+
+
+  Sit there for ever, dear, and lean
+    In marble as in fleeting flesh,
+  Above the tall gray reeds that screen
+    The river when the breeze is fresh;
+  For ever let the morning light
+  Stream down that forehead broad and white,
+  And round that cheek for my delight.
+
+  Already that flushed moment grows
+    So dark, so distant: through the ranks
+  Of scented reed the river flows,
+    Still murmuring to its willowy banks;
+  But we can never hope to share
+  Again that rapture fond and rare,
+  Unless you turn immortal there.
+
+  There is no other way to hold
+    These webs of mingled joy and pain;
+  Like gossamer their threads enfold
+    The journeying heart without a strain,--
+  Then break, and pass in cloud or dew,
+  And while the ecstatic soul goes through,
+  Are withered in the parching blue.
+
+  Hold, Time, a little while thy glass.
+    And Youth, fold up those peacock wings!
+  More rapture fills the years that pass
+    Than any hope the future brings;
+  Some for to-morrow rashly pray,
+  And some desire to hold to-day,
+  But I am sick for yesterday.
+
+  Since yesterday the hills were blue
+    That shall be gray for evermore,
+  And the fair sunset was shot through
+    With color never seen before!
+  Tyrannic Love smiled yesterday,
+  And lost the terrors of his sway,
+  But is a god again to-day.
+
+  Ah, who will give us back the past?
+    Ah woe, that youth should love to be
+  Like this swift Thames that speeds so fast,
+    And is so fain to find the sea,--
+  That leaves this maze of shadow and sleep,
+  These creeks down which blown blossoms creep,
+  For breakers of the homeless deep.
+
+  Then sit for ever, dear, in stone,
+    As when you turned with half a smile,
+  And I will haunt this islet lone,
+    And with a dream my tears beguile;
+  And in my reverie forget
+  That stars and suns were made to set;
+  That love grows cold, or eyes are wet.
+
+
+
+LYING IN THE GRASS
+
+
+  Between two golden tufts of summer grass,
+  I see the world through hot air as through glass,
+  And by my face sweet lights and colors pass.
+
+  Before me dark against the fading sky,
+  I watch three mowers mowing, as I lie:
+  With brawny arms they sweep in harmony.
+
+  Brown English faces by the sun burnt red,
+  Rich glowing color on bare throat and head,--
+  My heart would leap to watch them, were I dead!
+
+  And in my strong young living as I lie,
+  I seem to move with them in harmony,--
+  A fourth is mowing, and the fourth am I.
+
+  The music of the scythes that glide and leap,
+  The young men whistling as their great arms sweep,
+  And all the perfume and sweet sense of sleep,
+
+  The weary butterflies that droop their wings,
+  The dreamy nightingale that hardly sings,
+  And all the lassitude of happy things,
+
+  Is mingling with the warm and pulsing blood,
+  That gushes through my veins a languid flood,
+  And feeds my spirit as the sap a bud.
+
+  Behind the mowers, on the amber air,
+  A dark-green beech wood rises, still and fair,
+  A white path winding up it like a stair.
+
+  And see that girl, with pitcher on her head,
+  And clean white apron on her gown of red,--
+  Her evensong of love is but half said:
+
+  She waits the youngest mower. Now he goes;
+  Her cheeks are redder than a wild blush-rose;
+  They climb up where the deepest shadows close.
+
+  But though they pass, and vanish, I am there.
+  I watch his rough hands meet beneath her hair;
+  Their broken speech sounds sweet to me like prayer.
+
+  Ah! now the rosy children come to play,
+  And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;
+  Their clear, high voices sound from far away.
+
+  They know so little why the world is sad;
+  They dig themselves warm graves, and yet are glad;
+  Their muffled screams and laughter make me mad!
+
+  I long to go and play among them there;
+  Unseen, like wind, to take them by the hair,
+  And gently make their rosy cheeks more fair.
+
+  The happy children! full of frank surprise,
+  And sudden whims and innocent ecstasies;
+  What Godhead sparkles from their liquid eyes!
+
+  No wonder round those urns of mingled clays
+  That Tuscan potters fashioned in old days,
+  And colored like the torrid earth ablaze,
+
+  We find the little gods and Loves portrayed,
+  Through ancient forests wandering undismayed,
+  And fluting hymns of pleasure unafraid.
+
+  They knew, as I do now, what keen delight
+  A strong man feels to watch the tender flight
+  Of little children playing in his sight.
+
+  I do not hunger for a well-stored mind;
+  I only wish to live my life, and find
+  My heart in unison with all mankind.
+
+  My life is like the single dewy star
+  That trembles on the horizon's primrose bar,--
+  A microcosm where all things living are.
+
+  And if, among the noiseless grasses, Death
+  Should come behind and take away my breath,
+  I should not rise as one who sorroweth:
+
+  For I should pass, but all the world would be
+  Full of desire and young delight and glee,--
+  And why should men be sad through loss of me?
+
+  The light is flying: in the silver blue
+  The young moon shines from her bright window through:
+  The mowers are all gone, and I go too.
+
+
+
+
+RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL
+
+(1823-)
+
+[Illustration: R. VON GOTTSCHALL]
+
+
+Rudolf Von Gottschall was born in Breslau, September 30th, 1823. He was
+the son of a Prussian artillery officer, and as a lad gave early
+evidence of extraordinary talent. His father was transferred to the
+Rhine, and young Gottschall was sent successively to the gymnasiums of
+Mainz and Coblenz. Even in his school days, and before he entered the
+university, he had through his cleverness attained a certain degree of
+eminence. His career at the University of Koenigsberg, whither he went to
+pursue the study of jurisprudence, was interrupted by the results
+attendant upon a youthful ebullition of the spirit of freedom. His
+sympathy with the revolutionary element was too boldly expressed,
+and when in 1842 he published 'Lieder der Gegenwart' (Songs of the
+Present), he found it necessary to leave the university in order to
+avert impending consequences. In the following year he published
+'Censurfluechtlinge' (Fugitives from the Censor), a poem of a kind not in
+the least likely to conciliate the authorities. He remained for a time
+with Count Reichenbach in Silesia, and then went to Berlin, where he was
+allowed to complete his studies. He was however refused the privilege of
+becoming a university docent, although he had regularly taken his degree
+of _Dr. Juris_.
+
+He now devoted himself wholly to poetry and general literature. For a
+while he held the position of stage manager in the theatre of
+Koenigsberg, and during this period produced the dramas 'Der Blinde von
+Alcala' (The Blind Man of Alcala: 1846), and 'Lord Byron in Italien'
+(Lord Byron in Italy: 1848). After leaving Koenigsberg he frequently
+changed his residence, living in Hamburg and Breslau, and later in
+Posen, where in 1852 he was editor of a newspaper. In 1853 he went to
+Italy, and after his return he settled in Leipzig. Here he definitely
+established himself, and undertook the editing of Blaetter fuer
+Litterarische Unterhaltung (Leaves for Literary Amusement), and also of
+the monthly periodical Unsere Zeit (Our Time). He wrote profusely, and
+exerted an appreciable influence upon contemporary literature. He was
+ennobled by the Emperor in 1877.
+
+As a poet and man of letters, Gottschall possesses unusual gifts, and is
+a writer of most extraordinary activity. His fecundity is astonishing,
+and the amount of his published work fills many volumes. His versatility
+is no less remarkable than his productiveness. Dramatist and critic,
+novelist and poet,--in all his various fields he is never mediocre.
+Chief among his dramatic works are the tragedies 'Katharina Howard';
+'King Carl XII.'; 'Bernhard of Weimar'; 'Amy Robsart'; 'Arabella
+Stuart'; and the excellent comedy 'Pitt and Fox.' Of narrative poems the
+best known are 'Die Goettin, ein Hohes Lied vom Weibe' (The Goddess, a
+Song of Praise of Woman), 1852; 'Carlo Zeno,' 1854; and 'Sebastopol,'
+1856.
+
+He has published numerous volumes of verses which take a worthy rank in
+the poetry of the time. His first 'Gedichte' (Poems) appeared in 1849;
+'Neue Gedichte' (New Poems) in 1858; 'Kriegslieder'(War Songs) in 1870;
+and 'Janus' and 'Kriegs und Friedens Gedichte' (Poems of War and Peace)
+in 1873. In his novels he is no less successful, and of these may be
+mentioned--'Im Banne des Schwarzen Adlers' (In the Ban of the Black
+Eagle: 1876); 'Welke Blaetter' (Withered Leaves: 1878); and 'Das Goldene
+Kalb' (The Golden Calf: 1880).
+
+It is however chiefly as critic that his power has been most widely
+exerted, and prominent among the noteworthy productions of later years
+stand his admirable 'Portraets und Studien' (Portraits and Studies:
+1870-71); and 'Die Deutsche Nationallitteratur in der Ersten Haelfte des
+19. Jahrhunderts' (The German National Literature in the First Half of
+the Nineteenth Century: 1855), continued to the present time in 1892,
+when the whole appeared as 'The German National Literature of the
+Nineteenth Century.'
+
+
+
+HEINRICH HEINE
+
+From 'Portraits and Studies'
+
+
+About no recent poet has so much been said and sung as about Heinrich
+Heine. The youngest writer, who for the first time tries his pen, does
+not neglect to sketch with uncertain outlines the portrait of this poet;
+and the oldest sour-tempered professor of literature, who turns his back
+upon the efforts of the present with the most distinguished disapproval,
+lets fall on the picture a few rays of light, in order to prove the
+degeneration of modern literature in the Mephistophelean features of
+this its chief. Heine's songs are everywhere at home. They are to be
+found upon the music rack of the piano, in the school-books, in the
+slender libraries of minor officers and young clerks. However difficult
+it may be to compile an _editio castigata_ of his poems, every age,
+every generation has selected from among them that which has delighted
+it. Citations from Heine, winged words in verse and prose, buzz through
+the air of the century like a swarm of insects: splendid butterflies
+with gayly glistening wings, beautiful day moths and ghostly night
+moths, tormenting gnats, and bees armed with evil stings. Heine's works
+are canonical books for the intellectual, who season their judgments
+with citations from this poet, model their conversation on his style,
+interpret him, expand the germ cell of his wit to a whole fabric of
+clever developments. Even if he is not a companion on the way through
+life, like great German poets, and smaller Brahmins who for every day of
+our house-and-life calendar give us an aphorism on the road, there are
+nevertheless, in the lives of most modern men, moods with which Heine's
+verse harmonize with wondrous sympathy; moments in which the intimacy
+with this poet is greater than the friendship, even if this be of longer
+duration, with our classic poets.
+
+It is apparently idle to attempt to say anything new of so much
+discussed a singer of modern times, since testimony favorable and
+unfavorable has been drained to exhaustion by friend and foe. Who does
+not know Heine,--or rather, who does not believe that he knows him? for,
+as is immediately to be added, acquaintance with this poet extends
+really only to a few of his songs, and to the complete picture which is
+delivered over ready-made from one history of literature into another.
+Nothing, however, is more perilous and more fatal than literary
+tradition! Not merely decrees and laws pass along by inheritance, like a
+constitutional infirmity, but literary judgments too. They form at last
+a subject of instruction like any other; a dead piece of furniture in
+the spiritual housekeeping, which, like everything that has been
+learned, is set as completed to one side. We know enough of this sort of
+fixed pictures, which at last pass along onward as the fixed ideas of a
+whole epoch, until a later unprejudiced investigation dissolves this
+rigid-grown wisdom, sets it to flowing, and forms out of a new mixture
+of its elements a new and more truthful portrait.
+
+It is not to be affirmed however that Heine's picture, as it stands
+fixed and finished in the literature and the opinion of the present, is
+mistaken and withdrawn. It is dead, like every picture; there is lacking
+the living, changing play of features. We have of Heine only one picture
+before us; of our great poets several. Goethe in his "storm and stress,"
+in Frankfurt, Strassburg, and Wetzlar,--the ardent lover of a Friedrike
+of Sesenheim, the handsome, joyous youth, is different in our minds from
+the stiff and formal Weimar minister; the youthful Apollo different from
+the Olympic Jupiter. There lies a young development between, that we
+feel and are curious to know. It is similar with Schiller. The poet of
+the 'Robbers' with its motto _In tyrannos_, the fugitive from the
+military school; and the Jena professor, the Weimar court councilor who
+wrote 'The Homage of the Arts,'--are two different portraits.
+
+But Heine is to our view always the same, always the representative of
+humor with "a laughing tear" in his escutcheon, always the poetic
+anomaly, coquetting with his pain and scoffing it away. Young or old,
+well or ill, we do not know him different.
+
+And yet this poet too had a development, upon which at different times
+different influences worked....
+
+The first epoch in this course of development may be called the
+"youthful"; the 'Travel Pictures' and the lyrics contained in it form
+its brilliant conclusion. This is no storm-and-stress period in the way
+that, as Schiller and Goethe passed through it, completed works first
+issued under its clarifying influence. On the contrary, it is
+characteristic of Heine that we have to thank this youthful epoch for
+his best and most peculiarly national poems. The wantonness and the
+sorrows of this youth, in their piquant mixture, created these songs
+permeated by the breath of original talent, whose physiognomy, more than
+all that follow later, bears the mark of the kind and manner peculiar to
+Heine, and which for a long time exercised in our literature through a
+countless host of imitators an almost epidemic effect. But these lyric
+pearls, which in their purity and their crystalline polish are a lasting
+adornment of his poet's crown, and belong to the lyric treasures of our
+national literature, were also gathered in his first youthful epoch,
+when he still dived down into the depths of life in the diving-bell of
+romanticism.
+
+Although Heinrich Heine asserted of himself that he belonged to the
+"first men of the century," since he was born in the middle of New
+Year's night, 1800, more exact investigation has nevertheless shown
+that truth is here sacrificed to a witticism. Heine is still a child of
+the eighteenth century, by whose most predominant thoughts his work too
+is influenced, and with whose European coryphaeus, Voltaire, he has an
+undeniable relationship. He was born, as Strodtmann proves, on the 13th
+of December, 1799, in Duesseldorf, His father was a plain cloth-merchant;
+his mother, of the family Von Geldern, the daughter of a physician of
+repute. The opinion, however, that Heine was the fruit of a
+Jewish-Christian marriage, is erroneous. The family Von Geldern belonged
+to the orthodox Jewish confession. One of its early members, according
+to family tradition, although he was a Jew, had received the patent of
+nobility from one of the prince electors of Juelich-Kleve-Berg, on
+account of a service accorded him. As, moreover, Schiller's and Goethe's
+mothers worked upon their sons an appreciable educational influence, so
+was this also the case with Heine's mother, who is described as a pupil
+of Rousseau and an adorer of Goethe's elegies, and thus reached far out
+beyond the measure of the bourgeois conditions in which she lived....
+
+That which however worked upon his youthful spirit, upon his whole
+poetical manner, was the French sovereignty in the Rhine-lands at the
+time of his childhood and youth. The Grand Duchy of Berg, to which
+Duesseldorf belonged, was ruled in the French manner; a manner which,
+apart from the violent conscriptions, when compared with the Roman
+imperial periwig style had great advantages, and in particular granted
+to Jews complete equal rights with Christians, since the revolutionary
+principle of equality had outlived the destruction of freedom. Thus the
+Jews in Duesseldorf in their greater part were French sympathizers, and
+Heine's father too was an ardent adherent of the new regime. This as a
+matter of course could not remain without influence upon the son, so
+much the less as he had French instruction at the lyceum. A vein of the
+lively French blood is unmistakable in his works. It drew him later on
+to Paris, where he made the martyr stations of his last years. And of
+all recent German poets, Heinrich Heine is the best known in France,
+better known even than our classic poets; for the French feel this vein
+of related blood....
+
+From his youth springs, too, Heine's enthusiasm for the great Napoleon,
+which however he has never transmitted to the successors of the _idees
+Napoleoniennes_. The thirteen-year-old pupil of the gymnasium saw the
+Emperor in the year 1811, and then again in May 1812; and later on in
+the 'Book Legrand' of the 'Travel Pictures' he strikes up the following
+dithyrambic, which, as is always the case with Heine where the great
+Caesar is concerned, tones forth pure and full, with genuine poetic
+swing, without those dissonances in which his inmost feelings often
+flow. "What feelings came over me," he exclaims, "when I saw him
+himself, with my own highly favored eyes, him himself, Hosanna, the
+Emperor! It was in the avenue of the Court garden in Duesseldorf. As I
+pushed myself through the gaping people, I thought of his deeds and his
+battles, and my heart beat the general march--and nevertheless, I
+thought at the same time of the police regulation that no one under a
+penalty of five thalers should ride through the middle of the avenue.
+And the Emperor rode quietly through the middle of the avenue; no
+policeman opposed him. Behind him, his suite rode proudly on snorting
+horses and loaded with gold and jewels, the trumpets sounded, and the
+people shouted with a thousand voices, 'Long live the Emperor!'" To this
+enthusiasm for Napoleon, Heine not long afterward gave a poetic setting
+in the ballad 'The Two Grenadiers.'...
+
+The Napoleonic remembrances of his youth, which retained that unfading
+freshness and enthusiasm that are wont to belong to all youthful
+remembrances, were of vital influence upon Heine's later position in
+literature; they formed a balance over against the romantic tendency,
+and hindered him from being drawn into it. Precisely in that epoch when
+the beautiful patriotism of the Wars of Liberation went over into the
+weaker feeling of the time of the restoration, and romanticism, grown
+over-devout, in part abandoned itself to externals, in part became a
+centre of reactionary efforts, Heine let this Napoleonic lightning play
+on the sultry heavens of literature, in the most daring opposition to
+the ruling disposition of the time and a school of poetry from which he
+himself had proceeded; while he declared war upon its followers. However
+greatly he imperiled his reputation as a German patriot through these
+hosannas offered to the hereditary enemy, just as little was it to be
+construed amiss that the remembrance of historical achievements, and of
+those principles of the Revolution which even the Napoleonic despotism
+must represent, were a salutary ventilation in the miasmic atmosphere of
+the continually decreasing circle which at that time described German
+literature. In the prose of Heine, which like Beranger glorified Caesar,
+slumbered the first germs of the political lyric, which led again out of
+the moonlit magic realm of romanticism into the sunny day of history.
+
+A hopeless youthful love for a charming Hamburg maiden was the Muse of
+the Heine lyric, whose escutcheon has for a symbol "the laughing tear."
+With the simplicity of Herodotus the poet himself relates the fact, the
+experience, in the well-known poem with the final strophe:--
+
+  "It is an ancient story,
+    But still 'tis ever new:
+  To whomsoe'er it happens
+    His heart is broken too."
+
+We comprehend from biographical facts the inner genesis of the Heine
+lyric. Heine was in the position of Werther, but a Werther was for the
+nineteenth century an anomaly; a lyric of this sort in yellow nankeen
+breeches would have travestied itself. The content of the range of
+thought, the circle of world-shaping efforts, had so expanded itself
+since the French Revolution that a complete dissolution into sentimental
+extravagance had become an impossibility. The justification of the
+sentiment was not to be denied; but it must not be regarded as the
+highest, as the life-determining element. It needed a rectification
+which should again rescue the freedom of the spirit. Humor alone could
+accomplish Munchausen's feat, and draw itself by its own hair out of the
+morass. Heine expressed his feelings with genuine warmth; he formed them
+into drawn pictures and visions; but then he placed himself on the
+defensive against them. He is the modern Werther, who instead of loading
+his pistol with a ball, loads it with humor. Artistic harmony suffered
+under this triumph of spiritual freedom; but that which appeared in his
+imitators as voluntary quibbling came from Heine of inner necessity. The
+subject of his first songs is the necessary expression of a struggle
+between feeling and spirit, between the often visionary dream life of a
+sentiment and self-consciousness, soaring free out over the world, which
+adjudged absorption in a single feeling as one-sided and unjustified.
+Later on, to be sure, these subjects of youthful inspiration became in
+Heine himself a satiric-humoristic manner, which regarded as a model
+worked much evil in literature. In addition to personal necessity
+through one's own experience, there was for a genius such as Heine's
+also a literary necessity, which lay in the development of our
+literature in that epoch. It was the Indian Summer of romanticism, whose
+cobwebs at this time flew over the stubble of our poetry. The vigorous
+onset of the lyricists of the Wars of Liberation had again grown lame;
+people reveled in the album sentiments of Tiedge and Mahlmann; the
+spectres of Amadeus Hoffmann and the lovely high-born maidens of knight
+Fouque were regarded then as the noblest creations of German fantasy.
+Less chosen spirits, that is to say, the entire great reading public of
+the German nation, which ever felt toward its immortals a certain
+aversion, refreshed itself with the lukewarm water of the poetry of
+Clauren, from out of which, instead of the Venus Anadyomene, appear a
+Mimili and other maiden forms, pretty, but drawn with a stuffed-out
+plasticism. On the stage reigned the "fate tragedies" upon whose lyre
+the strings were wont to break even in the first scene, and whose ghosts
+slipped silently over all the German boards. In a word, spirits
+controlled the poetry of the time more than spirit.
+
+Heine however was a genuine knight of the spirit, and even if he
+conjured up his lyric spectres, he demanded no serious belief in
+them--they were dissolving pictures of mist; and if he followed his
+overflowing feelings, the mawkish sentiments of romanticism occurred to
+him and disgusted him with the extravagant expression of his love pain,
+and he mocked himself, the time, and the literature,--dissolved the
+sweet accords in glaring dissonances, so that they should not be in tune
+with the sentimental street songs of the poets of the day. In these
+outer and inner reasons lie the justification and the success of the
+lyric poetry of Heine. It designates an act of self-consciousness of the
+German spirit, which courageously lifts itself up out of idle love
+complainings and fantastic dream life, and at the same time mocks them
+both. An original talent like Heine's was needed to give to the derided
+sentiment such a transporting magic, to the derision itself such an
+Attic grace, that the sphinx of his poetry, with the beautiful face and
+the rending claws, always produced the impression of a work of art. The
+signification in literary history of these songs of Heine is not to be
+underestimated. They indicate the dissolution of romanticism, and with
+them begins the era of modern German poetry.
+
+          Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,'
+          by William H. Carpenter
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GOWER
+
+(1325?-1408)
+
+[Illustration: JOHN GOWER]
+
+
+Since Caxton, the first printer of 'Confessio Amantis' (The Confession
+of a Lover), described Gower as a "squyer borne in Walys in the tyme of
+Kyng Richard the second," there has been a diversity of opinion about
+his birthplace, and he has been classed variously with prosperous Gowers
+until of late, when the county assigned to him is Kent. His birth-year
+is placed approximately at 1325. We know nothing of his early life and
+education. It has been guessed that he went to Oxford, and afterwards
+traveled in the troubled kingdom of France. Such a course might have
+been followed by a man of his estate. He had means, for English property
+records (in this instance the rolls of Chancery, the parchment
+foundation of English society) still preserve deeds of his holdings in
+Kent and Essex and elsewhere.
+
+His life lay along with that of Chaucer's, in the time when Edward III.
+and his son the Black Prince were carrying war into France, and the
+English Parliament were taking pay in plain speaking for what they
+granted in supplies, and wresting at the same time promises of reform
+from the royal hand. But Gower and Chaucer were not only contemporaries:
+they were of like pursuit, tastes, and residence; they were friends; and
+when Chaucer under Richard II., the grandson and successor of Edward,
+went to France upon the mission of which Froissart speaks, he named John
+Gower as one of his two attorneys while he should be away. Notice of
+Gower's marriage to Agnes Groundolf late in life--in 1397--is still
+preserved. Three years after this he became blind,--it was the year
+1400, in which Chaucer died,--and in 1408 he died.
+
+     "The infirm poet," says Morley, "spent the evening of his
+     life at St. Mary Overies [St. Mary-over-the-River], in
+     retirement from all worldly affairs except pious and liberal
+     support of the advancing building works in the priory, and in
+     the church now known as St. Saviour's [Southwark], to which
+     he bequeathed his body. His will, made not long before death,
+     bequeathed his soul to God, his body to be buried in St.
+     Mary Overies. The poet bequeathed also 13_s._ 4_d._ to each
+     of the four parish churches of Southwark for ornaments and
+     lights, besides 6_s._ 8_d._ for prayers to each of their
+     curates. It is not less characteristic that he left also
+     40_s._ for prayers to the master of St. Thomas's Hospital,
+     and, still for prayers, 6_s._ 8_d._ to each of its priests,
+     3_s._ 4_d._ to each Sister in the hospital, twenty pence to
+     each nurse of the infirm there, and to each of the infirm
+     twelve pence. There were similar bequests to St. Thomas
+     Elsing Spital, a priory and hospital that stood where now
+     stands Sion College. St. Thomas Elsing Spital, founded in
+     1329 by William Elsing, was especially commended to the
+     sympathies of the blind old poet, as it consisted of a
+     college for a warden, four priests, and two clerks, who had
+     care of one hundred old, blind, and poor persons of both
+     sexes, preference being given to blind, paralytic, and
+     disabled priests. Like legacies were bequeathed also to
+     Bedlam-without-Bishopsgate, and to St. Mary's Hospital,
+     Westminster. Also there were bequests of ten shillings to
+     each of the leper-nurses. Two robes (one of white silk, the
+     other of blue baudekin,--a costly stuff with web of gold and
+     woof of silk), also a new dish and chalice, and a new missal,
+     were bequeathed to the perpetual service of the altar of the
+     chapel of St. John the Baptist, in which his body was to be
+     buried. To the prior and convent he left a great book, a
+     'Martyrology,' which had been composed and written for them
+     at his expense. To his wife Agnes he left a hundred pounds,
+     three cups, one coverlet, two salt-cellars, and a dozen
+     silver spoons; also all his beds and chests, with the
+     furnishings of hall, pantry, and kitchen; also a chalice and
+     robe for the altar of the chapel of their house; and she was
+     to have for life all rents due to him from his manors of
+     Southwell (in Nottingham) and Moulton (in Suffolk)."
+
+His wife was one of his executors. The will is still preserved at
+Lambeth Palace.
+
+Gower's tomb and monument may also still be seen at St. Saviour's, where
+the description Berthelet gave of them in 1532 is, aside from the
+deadening of the paintings, true:--"Somewhat after the olde ffashion he
+lyeth ryght sumptuously buryed, with a garland on his head, in token
+that he in his lyfe dayes flouryshed freshely in literature and
+science." The head of his stone effigy lies upon three volumes
+representing Gower's three great works; the hair falls in long curls;
+the robe is closely buttoned to the feet, which rest upon a lion, and
+the neck is encircled with a collar, from which a chain held a small
+swan, the badge of Henry IV. "Besyde on the wall where as he lyeth,"
+continues Berthelet, "there be peynted three virgins, with crownes on
+theyr heades; one of the which is written _Charitie_, and she holdeth
+this devise in her hande:--
+
+  'En toy qui fitz de Dieu le Pere
+  Sauve soit que gist souz cest piere.'
+
+  (In thee, who art Son of God the Father,
+  Be he saved who lieth under this stone.)
+
+"The second is wrytten _Mercye_, which holdeth in her hande this
+devise:--
+
+  'O bone Jesu fait ta mercy
+  Al alme dont le corps gist icy.'
+
+  (O good Jesus, grant thy mercy
+  To the soul whose body lies here.)
+
+"The thyrde of them is wrytten _Pity_, which holdeth in her hand this
+devise:--
+
+  'Pur ta pite, Jesu regarde,
+  Et met cest alme en sauve garde.'"
+
+  (For thy pity, Jesus, see;
+  And take this soul in thy safe guard.)
+
+The monument was repaired in 1615, 1764, and 1830.
+
+The three works which pillow the head of the effigy indicate Gower's
+'Speculum Meditantis' (The Looking-Glass of One Meditating), which the
+poet wrote in French; the 'Vox Clamantis' (The Voice of One Crying), in
+Latin; and the 'Confessio Amantis,' in English. It should be remembered
+in noting this mixture of tongues, that in Gower's early life the
+English had no national speech. The court, Parliament, nobles, and the
+courts of law used French; the Church held its service in Latin; while
+the inhabitants of Anglo-Saxon blood clung to the language of their
+fathers, which they had modified by additions from the Norman tongue. It
+was not until 1362 that Parliament was opened by a speech in English.
+"There is," says Dr. Pauli, "no better illustration of the singular
+transition to the English language than a short enumeration and
+description of Gower's writings." Of the 'Speculum Meditantis,' a
+treatise in ten books on the duties of married life, no copy is known to
+exist. The 'Vox Clamantis' was the voice of the poet, singing in Latin
+elegiac of the terrible evils which led to the rise of the commons and
+their march to London under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw in 1381. It is
+doubtless a true picture of the excesses and miseries of the day. The
+remedy, the poet says, is in reform--right living and love of England.
+Simony in the prelates, avarice and drunkenness in the libidinous
+priests, wealth and luxury in the mendicant orders, miscarrying of
+justice in the courts, enrichment of individuals by excessive
+taxes,--these are the subjects of the voice crying in the wilderness.
+
+Gower's greatest work, however, is the 'Confessio Amantis.' In form it
+is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a priest of
+Venus. In substance it is a setting-forth, with moralizings which are at
+times touching and elevated, of one hundred and twelve different
+stories, from sources so different as the Bible, Ovid, Josephus, the
+'Gesta Romanorum,' Valerius Maximus, Statius, Boccaccio, etc. Thirty
+thousand eight-syllabled rhymed lines make up the work. There are
+different versions. The first was dedicated to Richard II., and the
+second to his successor, Henry of Lancaster. Besides these large works,
+a number of French ballades, and also English and Latin short poems, are
+preserved. "They have real and intrinsic merit," says Todd: "they are
+tender, pathetic, and poetical, and place our old poet Gower in a more
+advantageous point of view than that in which he has heretofore been
+usually seen."
+
+Estimates of Gower's writings are various; but even his most hostile
+judges admit the pertinence of the epithet with which Chaucer hails him
+in his dedication of 'Troilus and Creseide':--
+
+  "O morall Gower, this booke I direct
+  To thee and to the philosophicall Strode,
+  To vouchsafe there need is to correct
+  Of your benignities and zeales good."
+
+Then Skelton the laureate, in his long song upon the death of Philip
+Sparrow (which recalls the exquisite gem of Catullus in a like
+threnody), takes occasion to say:--
+
+  "Gower's englysshe is olde,
+  And of no value is tolde;
+  His matter is worth gold,
+  And worthy to be enrold."
+
+And again:--
+
+  Gower that first garnished our English rude."
+
+Old Puttenham also bears this testimony:--"But of them all [the English
+poets] particularly this is myne opinion, that Chaucer, with Gower,
+Lidgate, and Harding, for their antiquitie ought to have the first
+place."
+
+Taine dismisses him with little more than a fillip, and Lowell, while
+discoursing appreciatively on Chaucer, says:--
+
+     "Gower has positively raised tediousness to the precision of
+     science; he has made dullness an heirloom for the students of
+     our literary history. As you slip to and fro on the frozen
+     levels of his verse, which give no foothold to the mind; as
+     your nervous ear awaits the inevitable recurrence of his
+     rhyme, regularly pertinacious as the tick of an eight-day
+     clock, and reminding you of Wordsworth's
+
+        'Once more the ass did lengthen out
+        The hard dry seesaw of his horrible bray,'
+
+     you learn to dread, almost to respect, the powers of this
+     indefatigable man. He is the undertaker of the fair mediaeval
+     legend, and his style has the hateful gloss, the seemingly
+     unnatural length, of a coffin."
+
+Yet hear Morley:--
+
+     "To this day we hear among our living countrymen, as was to
+     be heard in Gower's time and long before, the voice passing
+     from man to man, that in spite of admixture with the thousand
+     defects incident to human character, sustains the keynote of
+     our literature, and speaks from the soul of our history the
+     secret of our national success. It is the voice that
+     expresses the persistent instinct of the English mind to find
+     out what is unjust among us and undo it, to find out duty to
+     be done and do it, as God's bidding.... In his own Old
+     English or Anglo-Saxon way he tries to put his soul into his
+     work. Thus in the 'Vox Clamantis' we have heard him asking
+     that the soul of his book, not its form, be looked to; and
+     speaking the truest English in such sentences as that 'the
+     eye is blind and the ear deaf, that convey nothing down to
+     the heart's depth; and the heart that does not utter what it
+     knows is as a live coal under ashes. If I know little, there
+     may be another whom that little will help.... But to the man
+     who believes in God, no power is unattainable if he but
+     rightly feels his work; he ever has enough, whom God
+     increases.' This is the old spirit of Caedmon and of Bede; in
+     which are laid, while the earth lasts, the strong foundations
+     of our literature. It was the strength of such a temper in
+     him that made Gower strong. 'God knows,' he says again, 'my
+     wish is to be useful; that is the prayer that directs my
+     labor.' And while he thus touches the root of his country's
+     philosophy, the form of his prayer--that what he has written
+     may be what he would wish it to be--is still a thoroughly
+     sound definition of good English writing. His prayer is that
+     there may be no word of untruth, and that 'each word may
+     answer to the thing it speaks of, pleasantly and fitly; that
+     he may flatter in it no one, and seek in it no praise above
+     the praise of God.'"
+
+The part of Gower's writing here brought before the reader is the
+quaintly told and charming story of Petronella, from 'Liber Primus' of
+the 'Confessio.' It may be evidence that all the malediction upon the
+poet above quoted is not deserved.
+
+The 'Confessio Amantis' has been edited and collated with the best
+manuscripts by Dr. Reinhold Pauli (1857). The 'Vox Clamantis' was
+printed for the first time in 1850, under the editorship of H. O. Coxe
+and for the Roxburghe Club. The 'Balades and Other Poems' are also
+included in the publication of the Roxburghe Club. Other sources of
+information regarding Gower are 'Illustrations of the Lives and Writings
+of Gower and Chaucer' by Henry J. Todd (1810); Henry Morley's reviews in
+'English Writers'; and various short articles.
+
+
+
+PETRONELLA
+
+From the 'Confessio Amantis'
+
+
+  A king whilom was yonge and wise,
+  The which set of his wit great prise.
+  Of depe ymaginations
+  And straunge interpretations,
+  Problemes and demaundes eke
+  His wisedom was to finde and seke;
+  Wherof he wolde in sondry wise
+  Opposen hem that weren wise.
+  But none of hem it mighte bere
+  Upon his word to yive answere;[1]
+  Out taken one, which was a knight:
+  To him was every thing so light,
+  That also sone as he hem herde
+  The kinges wordes he answerde,
+  What thing the king him axe wolde,
+  Whereof anone the trouth he tolde.
+  The king somdele had an envie,
+  And thought he wolde his wittes plie
+    To sete some conclusion,
+    Which shulde be confusion
+  Unto this knight, so that the name
+  And of wisdom the highe fame
+  Toward him selfe he wolde winne.
+  And thus of all his wit withinne
+  This king began to studie and muse
+  What straunge mater he might use
+  The knightes wittes to confounde;
+  And ate last he hath it founde,
+  And for the knight anon he sente,
+  That he shall telle what he mente.
+  Upon three points stood the matere,
+  Of questions as thou shalte here.
+    The firste pointe of all thre
+  Was this: what thing in his degre
+  Of all this world hath nede lest,
+  And yet men helpe it allthermest.
+    The second is: what moste is worth
+  And of costage is lest put forth.
+    The thrid is: which is of most cost,
+  And lest is worth, and goth to lost.
+    The king these thre demaundes axeth.
+  To the knight this law he taxeth:
+  That he shall gone, and comen ayein
+  The thridde weke, and tell him pleine
+  To every point, what it amounteth.
+  And if so be that he miscounteth
+  To make in his answere a faile,
+  There shall none other thinge availe,
+  The king saith, but he shall be dede
+  And lese his goodes and his hede.
+  This knight was sory of this thinge,
+  And wolde excuse him to the kinge;
+  But he ne wolde him nought forbere,
+  And thus the knight of his answere
+  Goth home to take avisement.
+  But after his entendement
+  The more he cast his wit about,
+  The more he stant thereof in doubte.
+  Tho[2] wist he well the kinges herte,
+  That he the deth ne shulde asterte,[3]
+  And suche a sorroe to him hath take
+  That gladship he hath all forsake.
+  He thought first upon his life,
+  And after that upon his wife,
+  Upon his children eke also,
+  Of whiche he had doughteres two.
+  The yongest of hem had of age
+  Fourtene yere, and of visage
+  She was right faire, and of stature
+  Lich to an hevenlich figure,
+  And of maner and goodly speche,
+  Though men wolde all landes seche,
+  They shulden nought have founde her like.
+  She sigh[4] her fader sorroe and sike,[5]
+  And wist nought the cause why.
+  So cam she to him prively,
+  And that was wher he made his mone
+  Within a gardin all him one.[6]
+  Upon her knees she gan down falle
+  With humble herte, and to him calle
+  And saide:--"O good fader dere,
+  Why make ye thus hevy chere,[7]
+  And I wot nothinge how it is?
+  And well ye knowe, fader, this,
+  What adventure that you felle
+  Ye might it saufly to me telle;
+  For I have ofte herd you saide,
+  That ye such truste have on me laide,
+  That to my suster ne to my brother
+  In all this worlde ne to none other
+  Ye durste telle a privete
+  So well, my fader, as to me.
+  Forthy,[8] my fader, I you praie
+  Ne casteth nought that hert[9] awaie,
+  For I am she that wolde kepe
+  Your honour." And with that to wepe
+  Her eye may nought be forbore;[10]
+  She wisheth for to ben unbore,[11]
+  Er[12] that her fader so mistriste
+  To tellen her of that he wiste.
+  And ever among mercy[13] she cride,
+  That he ne shulde his counseil hide
+  From her, that so wolde him good
+  And was so nigh flesshe and blood.
+  So that with weping, ate laste
+  His chere upon his childe he caste,
+  And sorroefully to that she praide[14]
+  He tolde his tale, and thus he saide:--
+  "The sorroe, doughter, which I make
+  Is nought all only for my sake,
+  But for the bothe and for you alle.
+  For suche a chaunce is me befalle,
+  That I shall er this thridde day
+  Lese all that ever I lese may,
+  My life and all my good therto.
+  Therefore it is I sorroe so."
+    "What is the cause, alas," quod she,
+  "My fader, that ye shulden be
+  Dede and destruied in suche a wise?"
+    And he began the points devise,
+  Which as the king tolde him by mouthe,
+  And said her pleinly, that he couthe
+  Answeren to no point of this.
+  And she, that hereth howe it is,
+  Her counseil yaf[15] and saide tho[16]:--
+    "My fader, sithen it is so,
+  That ye can se none other weie,
+  But that ye must nedes deie,
+  I wolde pray you of o[17] thinge,--
+  Let me go with you to the kinge,
+  And ye shall make him understonde,
+  How ye, my wittes for to fonde,
+  Have laid your answere upon me,
+  And telleth him in such degre
+  Upon my worde ye wol abide
+  To life or deth, what so betide.
+  For yet perchaunce I may purchace
+  With some good word the kinges grace,
+  Your life and eke your good to save.
+  For ofte shall a woman have
+  Thing, whiche a man may nought areche."
+    The fader herd his doughters speche,
+  And thought there was no reson in,
+  And sigh his owne life to winne
+  He couthe done himself no cure.[18]
+  So better him thought in aventure
+  To put his life and all his good,
+  Than in the manner as it stood,
+  His life incertein for to lese.
+  And thus thenkend he gan to chese
+  To do the counseil of this maid,
+  And toke the purpose which she said.
+    The day was comen, and forth they gone;
+  Unto the court they come anone,
+  Where as the kinge in his jugement
+  Was set and hath this knight assent.
+  Arraied in her beste wise,
+  This maiden with her wordes wise
+  Her fader ledde by the honde
+  Into the place,[19] where he fonde
+  The king with other which he wolde;
+  And to the king knelend he tolde
+  As he enformed was to-fore,
+  And praith the king, that he therfore
+  His doughters wordes wolde take;
+  And saith, that he woll undertake
+  Upon her wordes for to stonde.
+  Tho was ther great merveile on honde,
+  That he, which was so wise a knight,
+  His life upon so yonge a wight
+  Besette wolde in jeopartie,
+  And many it helden for folie.
+  But at the laste, netheles,
+  The king commaundeth ben in pees,
+  And to this maide he cast his chere,[20]
+  And saide he wolde her tale here,
+  And bad her speke; and she began:--
+    "My lege lord, so as I can,"
+  Quod she, "the pointes which I herde,
+  They shull of reson ben answerde.
+  The first I understonde is this:
+  What thinge of all the worlde it is,
+  Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.
+  My lege lord, this wolde I rede:
+  The erthe it is, which evermo
+  With mannes labour is bego
+  As well in winter as in maie.
+  The mannes honde doth what he may
+  To helpe it forth and make it riche,
+  And forthy men it delve and diche,
+  And even it with strength of plough,
+  Wher it hath of him self inough
+  So that his nede is ate leste.
+  For every man, birde, and beste
+  Of flour and gras and roote and rinde
+  And every thing by way of kinde
+  Shall sterve, and erthe it shall become
+  As it was out of erthe nome,[21]
+  It shall be therthe torne ayein.[22]
+  And thus I may by reson sein
+  That erthe is the most nedeles
+  And most men helpe it netheles;
+  So that, my lord, touchend of this
+  I have answerde how that it is.
+    That other point I understood,
+  Which most is worth, and most is good,
+  And costeth lest a man to kepe:
+  My lorde, if ye woll take kepe,[23]
+  I say it is humilite,
+  Through whiche the high Trinite
+  As for deserte of pure love
+  Unto Marie from above,
+  Of that he knewe her humble entente,
+  His owne Sone adown he sente
+  Above all other, and her he chese
+  For that vertu, which bodeth pees.
+  So that I may by reson calle
+  Humilite most worthe of alle,
+  And lest it costeth to mainteine
+  In all the worlde, as it is seine.
+  For who that hath humblesse on honde,
+  He bringeth no werres into londe,
+  For he desireth for the best
+  To setten every man in reste.
+  Thus with your highe reverence
+  Me thenketh that this evidence
+  As to this point is suffisaunt.
+    And touchend of the remenaunt,
+  Which is the thridde of your axinges,
+  What lest is worth of alle thinges,
+  And costeth most, I telle it pride,
+  Which may nought in the heven abide.
+  For Lucifer with hem that felle
+  Bar pride with him into helle.
+  There was pride of to grete cost
+  Whan he for pride hath heven lost;
+  And after that in Paradise
+  Adam for pride lost his prise
+  In middel-erth. And eke also
+  Pride is the cause of alle wo,
+  That all the world ne may suffice
+  To staunche of pride the reprise.
+  Pride is the heved[24] of all sinne,
+  Which wasteth all and may nought winne;
+  Pride is of every mis[25] the pricke[26];
+  Pride is the worste of all wicke,
+  And costeth most and lest is worth
+  In place where he hath his forth.
+    Thus have I said that I woll say
+  Of min answere, and to you pray,
+  My lege lorde, of your office,
+  That ye such grace and suche justice
+  Ordeigne for my fader here,
+  That after this, whan men it here,
+  The world therof may speke good."
+    The king, which reson understood,
+  And hath all herde how she hath said,
+  Was inly glad, and so well paid,
+  That all his wrath is over go.
+  And he began to loke tho
+  Upon this maiden in the face,
+  In which he found so mochel grace,
+  That all his prise on her he laide
+  In audience, and thus he saide:--
+    "My faire maide, well the[27] be
+  Of thin answere, and eke of the
+  Me liketh well, and as thou wilte,
+  Foryive be thy faders gilte.
+  And if thou were of such lignage,
+  That thou to me were of parage,
+  And that thy fader were a pere,
+  As he is now a bachelere,
+  So siker as I have a life,
+  Thou sholdest thanne be my wife.
+  But this I saie netheles,
+  That I woll shape thin encrese;
+  What worldes good that thou wolt crave
+  Are of my yift, and thou shalt have."
+    And she the king with wordes wise,
+  Knelende, thanketh in this wise:--
+    "My lege lord, god mot you quite.[28]
+  My fader here hath but a lite
+  Of warison,[29] and that he wende
+  Had all be[30] lost, but now amende
+  He may well through you noble grace."
+    With that the king right in his place
+  Anon forth in that freshe hete
+  An erldome, which than of eschete
+  Was late falle into his honde,
+  Unto this knight with rent and londe
+  Hath yove, and with his chartre sesed,
+  And thus was all the noise appesed.
+  This maiden, which sate on her knees
+  To-fore the kinges charitees,
+  Commendeth and saith evermore:--
+    "My lege lord, right now to-fore
+  Ye saide, and it is of recorde,
+  That if my fader were a lorde
+  And pere unto these other grete,
+  Ye wolden for nought elles lette,
+  That I ne sholde be your wife.
+  And thus wote every worthy life
+  A kinges worde mot nede be holde.
+  Forthy my lord, if that ye wolde
+  So great a charite fulfille,
+  God wote it were well my wille.
+  For he which was a bachelere,
+  My fader, is now made a pere;
+  So whan as ever that I cam,
+  An erles doughter nowe I am."
+    This yonge king, which peised[31] all
+  Her beaute and her wit withall,
+  As he, which was with love hente,[32]
+  Anone therto gaf his assente.
+  He might nought the place asterte,
+  That she nis lady of his herte.
+  So that he toke her to his wife
+  To holde, while that he hath life.
+  And thus the king toward his knight
+  Accordeth him, as it is right.
+  And over this good is to wite[33]
+  In the cronique as it is write,
+  This noble kinge, of whom I tolde,
+  Of Spaine by tho daies olde
+  The kingdom had in governaunce,
+  And as the boke maketh remembraunce,
+  Alphonse was his propre name.
+  The knight also, if I shall name,
+  Danz Petro hight, and as men telle,
+  His doughter wise Petronelle
+  Was cleped, which was full of grace.
+  And that was sene in thilke place,
+  Where she her fader out of tene[34]
+  Hath brought and made her selfe a quene,
+  Of that she hath so well desclosed
+  The points whereof she was opposed.
+
+    [1] No one could solve his puzzles.
+
+    [2] For.
+
+    [3] Escape.
+
+    [4] Saw.
+
+    [5] Sigh.
+
+    [6] Own.
+
+    [7] Care.
+
+    [8] Therefore.
+
+    [9] Heart.
+
+    [10] Cannot endure it.
+
+    [11] Unborn.
+
+    [12] Ere.
+
+    [13] In the midst of pity (for him).
+
+    [14] In answer to her prayer.
+
+    [15] Gave.
+
+    [16] Thus.
+
+    [17] One.
+
+    [18] Saw that he could do nothing to save his own life.
+
+    [19] Palace.
+
+    [20] Turned his attention.
+
+    [21] Taken.
+
+    [22] Shall turn thereto again.
+
+    [23] Heed.
+
+    [24] Head.
+
+    [25] Mischief.
+
+    [26] Core.
+
+    [27] Thee.
+
+    [28] May God requite you.
+
+    [29] Has had but little reward.
+
+    [30] Been.
+
+    [31] Poised--weighed.
+
+    [32] Seized.
+
+    [33] Know.
+
+    [34] Destruction.
+
+
+
+
+[ILLUSTRATION: ULYSSES S. GRANT]
+
+
+
+
+ULYSSES S. GRANT
+
+(1822-1885)
+
+BY HAMLIN GARLAND
+
+
+Ulysses Grant was born on the 27th of April, 1822, in a small two-room
+cabin situated in Point Pleasant, a village in southern Ohio, about
+forty miles above Cincinnati. His father, Jesse R. Grant, was a
+powerful, alert, and resolute man, ready of speech and of fair education
+for the time. His family came from Connecticut, and was of the earliest
+settlers in New England. Hannah Simpson, his wife, was of strong
+American stock also. The Simpsons had been residents, for several
+generations, of southeastern Pennsylvania. The Grants and the Simpsons
+had been redoubtable warriors in the early wars of the republic. Hannah
+Simpson was a calm, equable, self-contained young woman, as reticent and
+forbearing as her husband was disputatious and impetuous.
+
+Their first child was named Hiram Ulysses Grant. Before the child was
+two years of age, Jesse Grant, who was superintending a tannery in Point
+Pleasant, removed to Georgetown, Brown County, Ohio, and set up in
+business for himself. Georgetown was a village in the deep woods, and in
+and about this village Ulysses Grant grew to be a sturdy, self-reliant
+boy. He loved horses, and became a remarkable rider and teamster at a
+very early age. He was not notable as a scholar, but it was soon
+apparent that he had inherited the self-poise, the reticence, and the
+modest demeanor of his mother. He took part in the games and sports of
+the boys, but displayed no military traits whatever. At the age of
+seventeen he was a fair scholar for his opportunities, and his ambitious
+father procured for him an appointment to the Military Academy at West
+Point. He reported at the adjutant's desk in June 1839, where he found
+his name on the register "Ulysses S. Grant" through a mistake of his
+Congressman, Thomas L. Hamer. Meanwhile, to escape ridicule on the
+initials of his name, which spelled "H.U.G." he had transposed his name
+to Ulysses H. Grant, and at his request the adjutant changed the S to an
+H; but the name on record in Washington was Ulysses S., and so he
+remained "U. S. Grant" to the government and U. H. Grant to his friends
+and relatives.
+
+His record at West Point was a good one in mathematics and fair in most
+of his studies. He graduated at about the middle of his class, which
+numbered thirty-nine. He was much beloved and respected as an upright,
+honorable, and loyal young fellow. At the time of his graduation he was
+president of the only literary society of the academy; W. S. Hancock was
+its secretary.
+
+He remained markedly unmilitary throughout his course, and was
+remembered mainly as a good comrade, a youth of sound judgment, and the
+finest horseman in the academy. He asked to be assigned to cavalry duty,
+but was brevetted second lieutenant of the 4th Infantry, and ordered to
+Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis. Here he remained till the spring of
+1844, when his regiment was ordered to a point on the southwestern
+frontier, near the present town of Natchitoches, Louisiana. Here he
+remained till May 1845, when the Mexican War opened, and for the next
+three years he served with his regiment in every battle except Buena
+Vista. He was twice promoted for gallant conduct, and demonstrated his
+great coolness, resource, and bravery in the hottest fire. He was
+regimental quartermaster much of the time, and might honorably have kept
+out of battle, but he contrived to be in the forefront with his command.
+
+In the autumn of 1848 he married Miss Julia Dent of St. Louis, and as
+first lieutenant and regimental quartermaster, with a brevet of captain,
+he served at Sackett's Harbor and Detroit alternately till June 1852,
+when he was ordered to the coast. This was a genuine hardship, for he
+was unable to take his wife and child with him; but he concluded to
+remain in the army, and went with his command, sailing from New York and
+passing by the way of the Isthmus. On the way across the Isthmus the
+regiment encountered cholera, and all Grant's coolness, resource, and
+bravery were required to get his charge safely across. "He seemed never
+to think of himself, and appeared to be a man of iron," his companions
+said.
+
+He was regimental quartermaster at Fort Vancouver, near Portland,
+Oregon, for one year. In 1853 he was promoted to a captaincy and ordered
+to Fort Humboldt, near Eureka in California. In 1854, becoming
+disheartened by the never-ending vista of barrack life, and despairing
+of being able to have his wife and children with him, he sent in his
+resignation, to take effect July 31st, 1854. He had lost money by
+unfortunate business ventures, and so returned forlorn and penniless to
+New York. Thence he made his way to St. Louis to his wife and children,
+and began the world again as a farmer, without a house or tools or
+horses.
+
+His father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Dent, who lived about ten miles out of
+the city, set aside some sixty or eighty acres of land for his use, and
+thereon he built with his own hands a log cabin, which he called
+"Hardscrabble." For nearly four years he lived the life of a farmer. He
+plowed, hoed, cleared the land, hauled wood and props to the mines, and
+endured all the hardships and privations of a small farmer. In 1858 his
+health gave way, and he moved to St. Louis in the attempt to get into
+some less taxing occupation. He tried for the position of county
+engineer, and failed. He went into the real estate business with a
+friend, and failed in that. He secured a place in the customs office,
+but the collector died and he was thrown out of employment.
+
+In the spring of 1860, despairing of getting a foothold in St. Louis, he
+removed to Galena, Illinois, where his father had established a leather
+store, a branch of his tannery in Covington, Kentucky. Here he came in
+touch again with his two brothers, Simpson and Orvil Grant. He became a
+clerk at a salary of six hundred dollars per annum. At this time he was
+a quiet man of middle age, and his manner and mode of life attracted
+little attention till in 1861, when Sumter was fired upon and Lincoln
+called for volunteers. Galena at once held a war meeting to raise a
+company. Captain Grant, because of his military experience, was made
+president of the meeting, and afterward was offered the captaincy of the
+company, which he refused, saying, "I have been a captain in the regular
+army. I am fitted to command a regiment."
+
+He wrote at once a patriotic letter to his father-in-law, wherein he
+said, "I foresee the doom of slavery." He accompanied the company to
+Springfield, where his military experience was needed. Governor Richard
+Yates gave him work in the adjutant's office, then made him drill-master
+at Camp Yates; and as his efficiency became apparent he was appointed
+governor's aide, with rank of colonel. He mustered in several regiments,
+among them the 7th Congressional regiment at Mattoon. He made such an
+impression on this regiment that they named their camp in his honor, and
+about the middle of June sent a delegation of officers to ask that he be
+made colonel. Governor Yates reluctantly appointed him, and at the
+request of General John C. Fremont, the commander of the Department of
+the West, Grant's regiment (known as the 21st Illinois Volunteers) was
+ordered to Missouri. Colonel Grant marched his men overland, being the
+first commander of the State to decline railway transportation. His
+efficiency soon appeared, and he was given the command of all the troops
+in and about Mexico, Missouri. At this point he received a dispatch from
+E. B. Washburne, Congressman for his district, that President Lincoln
+had made him brigadier-general. He was put in command at Ironton,
+Missouri, and was proceeding against Colonel Hardee, when he was
+relieved from command by B. M. Prentiss and ordered to Jefferson City,
+Missouri. He again brought order out of chaos, and was ready for a
+campaign, when he was again relieved, and by suggestion of President
+Lincoln placed in command of a district with headquarters at Cairo,
+Illinois.
+
+This was his first adequate command, and with clear and orderly activity
+he organized his command of nearly ten thousand men. On the 6th of
+September, learning that the Confederates were advancing on Paducah, he
+took the city without firing a gun, and issued an address to the people
+of Kentucky which led Lincoln to say, "The man who can write like that
+is fitted to command in the West." Early in November, in obedience to a
+command from Fremont, he fought the battle of Belmont, thus preventing
+General Polk from reinforcing Price in Missouri. This was neither a
+victory nor a defeat, as the purpose was not to hold Belmont.
+
+In February 1862, with an army of twenty thousand men and accompanied by
+Commander Foote's flotilla, he took Fort Henry and marched on Fort
+Donelson. On the 16th of the same month he had invested Donelson and had
+beaten the enemy within their works. General Simon Buckner, his old
+classmate and comrade, was in command. He wrote to Grant, asking for
+commissioners to agree upon terms. Grant replied: "_No terms except an
+unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted. I propose to move
+immediately upon your works._" Buckner surrendered, and Grant's sturdy
+words flamed over the land, making him "Unconditional Surrender Grant."
+The whole nation thrilled with the surprise and joy of this capture, and
+the obscure brigadier-general became the hero of the day. He was made
+major-general, and given the command of the District of Western
+Tennessee.
+
+On the 6th and 7th of April he fought the terrible battle of Shiloh, and
+won it, though with great loss, owing to the failure of part of his
+reinforcements to arrive. Immediately after this battle, General H. W.
+Halleck, who had relieved General Fremont as commander in the West, took
+command in person, and by a clever military device deprived Grant of all
+command; and for six weeks the army timidly advanced on Corinth. Corinth
+was evacuated by the enemy before Halleck dared to attack, and Grant had
+no hand in any important command until late in the year.
+
+Halleck went to Washington in July, leaving Grant again in command; but
+his forces were so depleted that he could do little but defend his lines
+and stores. In January 1863 he began to assemble his troops to attack
+Vicksburg, but high water kept him inactive till the following April.
+His plan, then fully developed, was to run the battery with gunboats and
+transports, march his troops across the peninsula before the city, and
+flank the enemy from below. This superbly audacious plan involved
+cutting loose from his base of supplies and all communications. He was
+obliged to whip two armies in detail,--Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi,
+and Pemberton in command at Vicksburg. This marvelous campaign was
+executed to the letter, and on the third day of July, Pemberton
+surrendered the largest body of troops ever captured on this continent
+up to that time, and Grant became the "man of destiny" of the army. All
+criticism was silenced. The world's markets rose and fell with his daily
+doings. Lincoln wrote him a letter of congratulation. The question of
+making "the prop-hauler of the Gravois" general-in-chief of all the
+armies of the United States was raised, and all the nation turned to him
+as the savior of the republic.
+
+He was made commander of all the armies of the Mississippi, and
+proceeded to Chattanooga to rescue Rosecrans and his beleaguered army.
+In a series of swift and dramatic battles he captured Lookout Mountain
+and Missionary Ridge. Wherever he went, victory seemed to follow. His
+calm demeanor never changed. He was bent on "whipping out the
+Rebellion." He was seen to be a warrior of a new sort. He was never
+malignant, or cruel, or ungenerous to his enemies; but he fought battles
+to win them, and the country now clamored for him to lead the armies of
+the Potomac against Lee, the great Southern general against whom no
+Northern general seemed able to prevail.
+
+Early in March of 1864, Hon. E. B. Washburne introduced into Congress a
+bill reviving the grade of Lieutenant-General. It was passed by both
+houses with some discussion, and Lincoln conferred the title and all it
+implied upon Grant. He called him to Washington, and placed the whole
+conduct of the war in his hands. "I don't want to know your plans," he
+said. Grant became absolutely chief in command, and set forth at once to
+direct the Army of the Potomac in person, and to encompass Lee as he had
+captured the armies of Buckner and Pemberton. His aim was not to whip
+Lee, but to destroy his army and end the war. He began an enormous
+encircling movement which never for one moment relaxed. The Army of the
+Potomac retreated no more. It had a commander who never knew when he was
+beaten.
+
+He fought one day in the Wilderness, sustaining enormous losses; but
+when the world expected retreat, he ordered an advance. He fought
+another day, and on the third day ordered an advance. Lincoln said, "At
+last I have a general." Grant never rested. After every battle he
+advanced, inexorably closing around Lee. It took him a year, but in the
+end he won. He captured Lee's army, and ended the war on the 9th of
+April, 1865. His terms with the captured general of the Southern forces
+were so chivalrous and generous that it gained for him the respect and
+even admiration of the Southern people. They could not forget that he
+was conqueror, but they acknowledged his greatness of heart. He had no
+petty revenges.
+
+Nothing in human history exceeds the contrasts in the life of Ulysses
+Grant. When Lee surrendered to him, he controlled a battle line from the
+Potomac to the Rio Grande, composed of a million men. His lightest
+command had almost inconceivable power; and yet he was the same man who
+had hauled wood in St. Louis and sold awls and shoe-pegs in Galena,--he
+had been developed by opportunity. Personally he remained simple to the
+point of inconspicuousness. His rusty blouse, his worn hat, his dusty
+boots, his low and modest voice, gave no indication of his exalted
+position and his enormous power. At the grand review of the armies in
+Washington in May, he sat with musing eyes while the victorious legions
+passed him, so unobtrusive in the throng that his troops could hardly
+distinguish his form and face; and when he returned to Galena, his old
+home, he carried no visible sign of the power and glory to which he had
+won his way step by step, by sheer power of doing things so well that
+other and greater duties were intrusted to his keeping.
+
+He presented a new type of soldier to the world. He was never vengeful,
+never angry in battle. When others swore and uttered ferocious cries,
+Grant remained master of himself and every faculty, uttering no oaths,
+giving his commands in full, clear, simple, dignified phrases. He hated
+conflict. He cared nothing for the pomp and circumstance of war; it was
+not glorious to him; and when it was all over he said, "I never want to
+see a soldier's uniform again."
+
+He was the chief citizen of the republic at the close of the war, and
+when Lincoln was assassinated he was the mainstay of the republic. Every
+eye was turned upon him, and his calmness was most salutary upon the
+nation. He became inevitably a candidate for President, and was elected
+with great enthusiasm in 1868. In 1872 he was re-elected, and during his
+two terms his one great purpose was to reconstruct the nation. He did
+all that he could to heal the scars of war. He stood between the
+malignants of the North and the helpless people of the South, always
+patient and sympathetic. His administrations ran in turbulent times, and
+corruption was abroad in official circles, but there is no evidence that
+he was touched by it. His administration was attacked; he was acquitted.
+
+In 1878, two years after his second term had ended, he went on a trip
+around the world, visiting all the great courts and kings of the leading
+nations. He received the most extraordinary honors ever tendered to one
+human being by his fellows, but he returned to Galena and to his boyhood
+home, the same good neighbor, just as democratic in his intercourse as
+ever. He never forgot a face, whether of the man who shod his horses or
+of the man who nominated him for President, though he looked upon more
+people than any other man in the history of the world.
+
+In 1880 he mistakenly became a candidate for a third term, and was
+defeated. Shortly after this he moved to New York City, and became a
+nominal partner in the firm of Grant & Ward. His name was used in the
+business; he had little connection with it, for he was growing old and
+failing in health.
+
+In May 1884, through the rascality of Ferdinand Ward, the firm failed,
+and General Grant lost every dollar he owned. Just before the crash, in
+the attempt to save the firm, he went to a wealthy friend and borrowed a
+large sum of money. After the failure the grim old commander turned over
+to his creditor every trophy, every present which had been given him by
+his foreign friends, even the jeweled favors of kings and queens and the
+swords presented to him by his fellow-citizens and by his soldiers; he
+reserved nothing. He became so poor that his pew rent became a burden,
+and the question of earning a living came to him with added force, for
+he was old and lame, and attacked by cancer of the tongue.
+
+Now came the most heroic year of his life. Suffering almost ceaseless
+pain, with the death shadow on him, he sat down to write his
+autobiography for the benefit of his wife. He complained not at all, and
+allowed nothing to stand in the way of his work. He wrote on steadily,
+up to the very day of his death, long after the power of speech was
+gone, revising his proofs, correcting his judgments of commanders as new
+evidence arose, and in the end producing a book which was a marvel of
+simple sincerity and modesty of statement, and of transparent clarity of
+style. It took rank at once as one of the great martial biographies of
+the world. It redeemed his name and gave his wife a competency. It was a
+greater deed than the taking of Vicksburg.
+
+In this final illness his thoughts dwelt much upon the differences
+between the North and the South. From Mt. McGregor, where he was taken
+in June 1885 to escape the heat of the city, he sent forth repeated
+messages of good-will to the South. In this hour the two mighty purposes
+of his life grew clearer in men's minds. He had put down the Rebellion,
+and from the moment of Lee's surrender had set himself the task of
+reuniting the severed nation. "Let us have peace," he said; and the
+saying had all the effect of a benediction.
+
+He died on July 23rd, 1885, at the age of sixty-three; and at his grave
+the North and the South stood side by side in friendship, and the great
+captains of opposing armies walked shoulder to shoulder, bearing his
+body to its final rest on the bank of the Hudson River. The world knew
+his faults, his mistakes, and his weaknesses; but they were all
+forgotten in the memory of his great deeds as a warrior, and of his
+gentleness, modesty, candor, and purity as a man. Since then it becomes
+increasingly more evident that he is to take his place as one of three
+or four figures of the first class in our national history. He was a man
+of action, and his deeds were of the kind which mark epochs in history.
+
+                                         [Signature: Hamlin Garland]
+
+
+
+EARLY LIFE
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
+
+
+In June 1821 my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah Simpson. I was
+born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point Pleasant, Clermont County,
+Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we moved to Georgetown, the county seat of
+Brown, the adjoining county east. This place remained my home until at
+the age of seventeen, in 1839, I went to West Point.
+
+The schools at the time of which I write were very indifferent. There
+were no free schools, and none in which the scholars were classified.
+They were all supported by subscription, and a single teacher--who was
+often a man or a woman incapable of teaching much, even if they imparted
+all they knew--would have thirty or forty scholars, male and female,
+from the infant learning the A B C's up to the young lady of eighteen
+and the boy of twenty, studying the highest branches taught--the three
+R's, "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic." I never saw an algebra or other
+mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in Georgetown, until after
+I was appointed to West Point. I then bought a work on algebra, in
+Cincinnati; but having no teacher, it was Greek to me.
+
+My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five or six until
+seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the village, except
+during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The former period was spent in
+Maysville, Kentucky, attending the school of Richardson and Rand; the
+latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a private school. I was not studious in
+habit, and probably did not make progress enough to compensate for the
+outlay for board and tuition. At all events, both winters were spent in
+going over the same old arithmetic which I knew every word of before,
+and repeating, "A noun is the name of a thing," which I had also heard
+my Georgetown teachers repeat until I had come to believe it--but I cast
+no reflections upon my old teacher Richardson. He turned out bright
+scholars from his school, many of whom have filled conspicuous places in
+the service of their States. Two of my contemporaries there--who I
+believe never attended any other institution of learning--have held
+seats in Congress, and one, if not both, other high offices; these are
+Wadsworth and Brewster.
+
+My father was from my earliest recollection in comfortable
+circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and the
+community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of facilities for
+acquiring an education, his greatest desire in maturer years was for the
+education of his children. Consequently, as stated before, I never
+missed a quarter from school, from the time I was old enough to attend
+till the time of leaving home. This did not exempt me from labor. In my
+early days every one labored more or less, in the region where my youth
+was spent, and more in proportion to their private means. It was only
+the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried on the
+manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself, he owned and
+tilled considerable land. I detested the trade, preferring almost any
+other labor; but I was fond of agriculture, and of all employment in
+which horses were used. We had, among other lands, fifty acres of forest
+within a mile of the village. In the fall of the year, choppers were
+employed to cut enough wood to last a twelvemonth. When I was seven or
+eight years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the house and
+shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that time; but I
+could drive, and the choppers would load, and some one at the house
+unload. When about eleven years old, I was strong enough to hold a plow.
+From that age until seventeen I did all the work done with horses, such
+as breaking up the land, furrowing, plowing corn and potatoes, bringing
+in the crops when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two
+or three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., while
+still attending school. For this I was compensated by the fact that
+there was never any scolding or punishing by my parents; no objection to
+rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going to the creek a mile away to
+swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my grandparents in the
+adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the ice in winter, or
+taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the ground.
+
+While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five miles away,
+several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky,--often,--and once
+Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big one for a boy of that
+day. I had also gone once with a two-horse carriage to Chillicothe,
+about seventy miles, with a neighbor's family who were removing to
+Toledo, Ohio, and returned alone; and had gone once in like manner to
+Flat Rock, Kentucky, about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I
+was fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr.
+Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours in
+Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse which I rather coveted; and
+proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him for one of the two I was
+driving. Payne hesitated to trade with a boy, but asking his brother
+about it, the latter told him that it would be all right; that I was
+allowed to do as I pleased with the horses. I was seventy miles from
+home, with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know
+that his horse had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched to
+a farm wagon, and we would soon see whether he would work. It was soon
+evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but he showed no
+viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I could manage him. A
+trade was at once struck, I receiving ten dollars difference.
+
+The next day, Mr. Payne of Georgetown and I started on our return. We
+got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered a ferocious dog
+that frightened the horses and made them run. The new animal kicked at
+every jump he made. I got the horses stopped, however, before any damage
+was done, and without running into anything. After giving them a little
+rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the new horse
+kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were on struck the
+turnpike within half a mile of the point where the second runaway
+commenced, and there was an embankment twenty or more feet deep on the
+opposite side of the pike. I got the horses stopped on the very brink of
+the precipice. My new horse was terribly frightened, and trembled like
+an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my companion Mr.
+Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on
+a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to start, my new
+horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma for a time. Once
+in Maysville, I could borrow a horse from an uncle who lived there; but
+I was more than a day's travel from that point. Finally I took out my
+bandanna--the style of handkerchief in universal use then--and with this
+blindfolded my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next
+day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I borrowed a horse
+from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded on our journey.
+
+About half my school days in Georgetown were spent at the school of John
+D. White, a North-Carolinian, and the father of Chilton White, who
+represented the district in Congress for one term during the Rebellion.
+Mr. White was always a Democrat in politics, and Chilton followed his
+father. He had two older brothers,--all three being schoolmates of mine
+at their father's school,--who did not go the same way. The second
+brother died before the Rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a
+Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave soldier during
+the Rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told of an earlier horse
+trade of mine. As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston living
+within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I very much
+wanted. My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted
+twenty-five. I was so anxious to have the colt, that after the owner
+left I begged to be allowed to take him at the price demanded. My father
+yielded, but said twenty dollars was all the horse was worth, and told
+me to offer that price; if it was not accepted I was to offer twenty-two
+and a half, and if that would not get him, to give the twenty-five. I at
+once mounted a horse and went for the colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston's
+house, I said to him, "Papa says I may offer you twenty dollars for the
+colt, but if you won't take that, I am to offer twenty-two and a half,
+and if you won't take that, to give you twenty-five." It would not
+require a Connecticut man to guess the price finally agreed upon. This
+story is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had come
+for the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over eight
+years old at the time. This transaction caused me great heart-burning.
+The story got out among the boys of the village, and it was a long time
+before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy the misery of their
+companions,--at least village boys in that day did, and in later life I
+have found that all adults are not free from the peculiarity. I kept the
+horse until he was four years old, when he went blind, and I sold him
+for twenty dollars. When I went to Maysville to school, in 1836, at the
+age of fourteen, I recognized my colt as one of the blind horses working
+on the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat.
+
+I have described enough of my early life to give an impression of the
+whole. I did not like to work; but I did as much of it, while young, as
+grown men can be hired to do in these days, and attended school at the
+same time. I had as many privileges as any boy in the village, and
+probably more than most of them. I have no recollection of ever having
+been punished at home, either by scolding or by the rod. But at school
+the case was different. The rod was freely used there, and I was not
+exempt from its influence. I can see John D. White, the school-teacher,
+now, with his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not always
+the same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles from a beech wood
+near the schoolhouse, by the boys for whose benefit they were intended.
+Often a whole bundle would be used up in a single day. I never had any
+hard feelings against my teacher, either while attending the school or
+in later years when reflecting upon my experience. Mr. White was a
+kind-hearted man, and was much respected by the community in which he
+lived. He only followed the universal custom of the period, and that
+under which he had received his own education....
+
+In the winter of 1838-9 I was attending school at Ripley, only ten miles
+distant from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays at home.
+During this vacation my father received a letter from the Honorable
+Thomas Morris, then United States Senator from Ohio. When he read it he
+said to me, "Ulysses, I believe you are going to receive the
+appointment." "What appointment?" I inquired.--"To West Point; I have
+applied for it." "But I won't go," I said. He said he thought I would,
+_and I thought so too, if he did_. I really had no objection to going to
+West Point, except that I had a very exalted idea of the acquirements
+necessary to get through. I did not believe I possessed them, and could
+not bear the idea of failing.
+
+
+
+GRANT'S COURTSHIP
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant.
+
+
+At West Point I had a classmate,--in the last year of our studies he was
+room-mate also,--F. T. Dent, whose family resided some five miles west
+of Jefferson Barracks. Two of his unmarried brothers were living at home
+at that time, and as I had taken with me from Ohio my horse, saddle, and
+bridle, I soon found my way out to White Haven, the name of the Dent
+estate. As I found the family congenial, my visits became frequent.
+There were at home, besides the young men, two daughters, one a
+school-miss of fifteen, the other a girl of eight or nine. There was
+still an older daughter of seventeen, who had been spending several
+years at a boarding-school in St. Louis, but who, though through school,
+had not yet returned home. She was spending the winter in the city with
+connections, the family of Colonel John O'Fallon, well known in St.
+Louis. In February she returned to her country home. After that I do not
+know but my visits became more frequent: they certainly did become more
+enjoyable. We would often take walks, or go on horseback to visit the
+neighbors, until I became quite well acquainted in that vicinity.
+Sometimes one of the brothers would accompany us, sometimes one of the
+younger sisters. If the 4th Infantry had remained at Jefferson Barracks
+it is possible, even probable, that this life might have continued for
+some years without my finding out that there was anything serious the
+matter with me; but in the following May a circumstance occurred which
+developed my sentiment so palpably that there was no mistaking it.
+
+The annexation of Texas was at this time the subject of violent
+discussion in Congress, in the press, and by individuals. The
+administration of President Tyler, then in power, was making the most
+strenuous efforts to effect the annexation, which was indeed the great
+and absorbing question of the day. During these discussions the greater
+part of the single rifle regiment in the army--the 2d Dragoons, which
+had been dismounted a year or two before, and designated "Dismounted
+Rifles"--was stationed at Fort Jessup, Louisiana, some twenty-five miles
+east of the Texas line, to observe the frontier. About the first of May
+the 3d Infantry was ordered from Jefferson Barracks to Louisiana, to go
+into camp in the neighborhood of Fort Jessup, and there await further
+orders. The troops were embarked on steamers, and were on their way down
+the Mississippi within a few days after the receipt of this order. About
+the time they started I obtained a leave of absence for twenty days to
+go to Ohio to visit my parents. I was obliged to go to St. Louis to take
+a steamer for Louisville or Cincinnati, or the first steamer going up
+the Ohio River to any point. Before I left St. Louis, orders were
+received at Jefferson Barracks for the 4th Infantry to follow the 3d. A
+messenger was sent after me to stop my leaving; but before he could
+reach me I was off, totally ignorant of these events. A day or two after
+my arrival at Bethel I received a letter from a classmate and fellow
+lieutenant in the 4th, informing me of the circumstances related above,
+and advising me not to open any letter postmarked St. Louis or Jefferson
+Barracks until the expiration of my leave, and saying that he would pack
+up my things and take them along for me. His advice was not necessary,
+for no other letter was sent to me. I now discovered that I was
+exceedingly anxious to get back to Jefferson Barracks, and I understood
+the reason without explanation from any one. My leave of absence
+required me to report for duty at Jefferson Barracks at the end of
+twenty days. I knew my regiment had gone up the Red River, but I was not
+disposed to break the letter of my leave; besides, if I had proceeded to
+Louisiana direct, I could not have reached there until after the
+expiration of my leave. Accordingly, at the end of the twenty days I
+reported for duty to Lieutenant Ewell, commanding at Jefferson Barracks,
+handing him at the same time my leave of absence. After noticing the
+phraseology of the order--leaves of absence were generally worded, "at
+the end of which time he will report for duty with his proper
+command"--he said he would give me an order to join my regiment in
+Louisiana. I then asked for a few days' leave before starting, which he
+readily granted. This was the same Ewell who acquired considerable
+reputation as a Confederate general during the Rebellion. He was a man
+much esteemed, and deservedly so, in the old army, and proved himself a
+gallant and efficient officer in two wars--both in my estimation unholy.
+
+I immediately procured a horse and started for the country, taking no
+baggage with me, of course. There is an insignificant creek, the
+Gravois, between Jefferson Barracks and the place to which I was going,
+and at that day there was not a bridge over it from its source to its
+mouth. There is not water enough in the creek at ordinary stages to run
+a coffee-mill, and at low water there is none running whatever. On this
+occasion it had been raining heavily, and when the creek was reached I
+found the banks full to overflowing, and the current rapid. I looked at
+it a moment to consider what to do. One of my superstitions had always
+been when I started to go anywhere, or do anything, not to turn back or
+stop until the thing intended was accomplished. I have frequently
+started to go to places where I had never been and to which I did not
+know the way, depending upon making inquiries on the road, and if I got
+past the place without knowing it, instead of turning back, I would go
+on until a road was found turning in the right direction, take that, and
+come in by the other side. So I struck into the stream, and in an
+instant the horse was swimming and I being carried down by the current.
+I headed the horse towards the other bank and soon reached it, wet
+through and without other clothes on that side of the stream. I went on,
+however, to my destination and borrowed a dry suit from my (future)
+brother-in-law. We were not of the same size, but the clothes answered
+every purpose until I got more of my own.
+
+Before I returned I mustered up courage to make known, in the most
+awkward manner imaginable, the discovery I had made on learning that the
+4th Infantry had been ordered away from Jefferson Barracks. The young
+lady afterwards admitted that she too, although until then she had never
+looked upon me other than as a visitor whose company was agreeable to
+her, had experienced a depression of spirits she could not account for
+when the regiment left. Before separating, it was definitely understood
+that at a convenient time we would join our fortunes, and not let the
+removal of a regiment trouble us. This was in May 1844. It was the 22d
+of August, 1848, before the fulfillment of this agreement. My duties
+kept me on the frontier of Louisiana with the Army of Observation during
+the pendency of Annexation; and afterwards I was absent through the war
+with Mexico provoked by the action of the army, if not by the annexation
+itself. During that time there was a constant correspondence between
+Miss Dent and myself, but we only met once in the period of four years
+and three months. In May 1845 I procured a leave for twenty days,
+visited St. Louis, and obtained the consent of the parents for the
+union, which had not been asked for before.
+
+
+
+A TEXAN EXPERIENCE
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
+
+
+I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever gone in
+search of game, and rarely seen any when looking for it. On this trip
+there was no minute of time while traveling between San Patricio and the
+settlements on the San Antonio River, from San Antonio to Austin, and
+again from the Colorado River back to San Patricio, when deer or
+antelope could not be seen in great numbers. Each officer carried a
+shotgun, and every evening after going into camp, some would go out and
+soon return with venison and wild turkeys enough for the entire camp. I
+however never went out, and had no occasion to fire my gun; except,
+being detained over a day at Goliad, Benjamin and I concluded to go down
+to the creek--which was fringed with timber, much of it the pecan--and
+bring back a few turkeys. We had scarcely reached the edge of the timber
+when I heard the flutter of wings overhead, and in an instant I saw two
+or three turkeys flying away. These were soon followed by more, then
+more and more, until a flock of twenty or thirty had left from just over
+my head. All this time I stood watching the turkeys to see where they
+flew, with my gun on my shoulder, and never once thought of leveling it
+at the birds. When I had time to reflect upon the matter, I came to the
+conclusion that as a sportsman I was a failure, and went back to the
+house. Benjamin remained out, and got as many turkeys as he wanted to
+carry back.
+
+After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to make the
+remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus Christi just in time
+to avoid "absence without leave." We met no one, not even an Indian,
+during the remainder of our journey, except at San Patricio. A new
+settlement had been started there in our absence of three weeks, induced
+possibly by the fact that there were houses already built, while the
+proximity of troops gave protection against the Indians. On the evening
+of the first day out from Goliad we heard the most unearthly howling of
+wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was tall and we could
+not see the beasts, but the sound indicated that they were near. To my
+ear it appeared that there must have been enough of them to devour our
+party, horses and all, at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed
+from was not thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before
+I left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less populated, where the wolf
+yet roamed over the prairies. He understood the nature of the animal,
+and the capacity of a few to make believe there was an unlimited number
+of them. He kept on towards the noise, unmoved. I followed in his trail,
+lacking moral courage to turn back and join our sick companion. I have
+no doubt that if Benjamin had proposed returning to Goliad, I would not
+only have "seconded the motion," but have suggested that it was very
+hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the first place; but
+Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak it was to ask,
+"Grant, how many wolves do you think there are in that pack?" Knowing
+where he was from, and suspecting that he thought I would overestimate
+the number, I determined to show my acquaintance with the animal by
+putting the estimate below what possibly could be correct, and answered,
+"Oh, about twenty," very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In a
+minute we were close upon them, and before they saw us. There were just
+_two_ of them. Seated upon their haunches, with their mouths close
+together, they had made all the noise we had been hearing for the past
+ten minutes. I have often thought of this incident since, when I have
+heard the noise of a few disappointed politicians who had deserted their
+associates. There are always more of them before they are counted.
+
+
+
+THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL LEE
+
+From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
+and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
+
+
+Wars produce many stories of fiction, some of which are told until they
+are believed to be true. The War of the Rebellion was no exception to
+this rule, and the story of the apple-tree is one of those fictions
+based on a slight foundation of fact. As I have said, there was an apple
+orchard on the side of the hill occupied by the Confederate forces.
+Running diagonally up the hill was a wagon road, which at one point ran
+very near one of the trees, so that the wheels of vehicles had on that
+side cut off the roots of this tree, leaving a little embankment.
+General Babcock, of my staff, reported to me that when he first met
+General Lee he was sitting upon this embankment with his feet in the
+road below and his back resting against the tree. The story had no other
+foundation than that. Like many other stories, it would be very good if
+it was only true.
+
+I had known General Lee in the old army, and had served with him in the
+Mexican War: but did not suppose, owing to the difference in our age and
+rank, that he would remember me; while I would more naturally remember
+him distinctly, because he was the chief of staff of General Scott in
+the Mexican War.
+
+When I had left camp that morning I had not expected so soon the result
+that was then taking place, and consequently was in rough garb. I was
+without a sword, as I usually was when on horseback on the field, and
+wore a soldier's blouse for a coat, with the shoulder-straps of my rank
+to indicate to the army who I was. When I went into the house I found
+General Lee. We greeted each other, and after shaking hands took our
+seats. I had my staff with me, a good portion of whom were in the room
+during the whole of the interview.
+
+What General Lee's feelings were I do not know. As he was a man of much
+dignity, with an impassible face, it was impossible to say whether he
+felt inwardly glad that the end had finally come, or felt sad over the
+result and was too manly to show it. Whatever his feelings, they were
+entirely concealed from my observation; but my own feelings, which had
+been quite jubilant on the receipt of his letter, were sad and
+depressed. I felt like anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of
+a foe who had fought so long and valiantly, and had suffered so much for
+a cause,--though that cause was, I believe, one of the worst for which a
+people ever fought, and one for which there was the least excuse. I do
+not question, however, the sincerity of the great mass of those who were
+opposed to us.
+
+General Lee was dressed in a full uniform which was entirely new, and
+was wearing a sword of considerable value, very likely the sword which
+had been presented by the State of Virginia; at all events, it was an
+entirely different sword from the one that would ordinarily be worn in
+the field. In my rough traveling suit, the uniform of a private with the
+straps of a lieutenant-general, I must have contrasted very strangely
+with a man so handsomely dressed, six feet high and of faultless form.
+But this was not a matter that I thought of until afterwards.
+
+We soon fell into a conversation about old army times. He remarked that
+he remembered me very well in the old army; and I told him that as a
+matter of course I remembered him perfectly, but from the difference in
+our rank and years (there being about sixteen years' difference in our
+ages), I had thought it very likely that I had not attracted his
+attention sufficiently to be remembered by him after such a long
+interval. Our conversation grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the
+object of our meeting. After the conversation had run on in this style
+for some time, General Lee called my attention to the object of our
+meeting, and said that he had asked for this interview for the purpose
+of getting from me the terms I proposed to give his army. I said that I
+meant merely that his army should lay down their arms, not to take them
+up again during the continuance of the war unless duly and properly
+exchanged. He said that he had so understood my letter.
+
+Then we gradually fell off again into conversation about matters foreign
+to the subject which had brought us together. This continued for some
+little time, when General Lee again interrupted the course of the
+conversation by suggesting that the terms I had proposed to give his
+army ought to be written out. I called to General Parker, secretary on
+my staff, for writing materials, and commenced writing out the following
+terms:--
+
+                         APPOMATTOX C. H., VA., April 9th, 1865.
+
+     _Gen. R. E. Lee, Comd'g C. S. A._
+
+     GEN.:--In accordance with the substance of my letter to you
+     of the 8th inst., I propose to receive the surrender of the
+     Army of N. Va. on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of all
+     the officers and men to be made in duplicate. One copy to be
+     given to an officer designated by me, the other to be
+     retained by such officer or officers as you may designate.
+     The officers to give their individual paroles not to take up
+     arms against the Government of the United States until
+     properly exchanged, and each company or regimental commander
+     sign a like parole for the men of their commands. The arms,
+     artillery, and public property to be parked and stacked, and
+     turned over to the officer appointed by me to receive them.
+     This will not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor
+     their private horses or baggage. This done, each officer and
+     man will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be
+     disturbed by United States authority so long as they observe
+     their paroles and the laws in force where they may reside.
+
+                    Very respectfully,
+
+                                                    U. S. GRANT,
+                                                    Lt. Gen.
+
+When I put my pen to the paper I did not know the first word that I
+should make use of in writing the terms. I only knew what was in my
+mind, and I wished to express it clearly, so that there could be no
+mistaking it. As I wrote on, the thought occurred to me that the
+officers had their own private horses and effects, which were important
+to them but of no value to us; also that it would be an unnecessary
+humiliation to call upon them to deliver their side-arms.
+
+No conversation, not one word, passed between General Lee and myself,
+either about private property, side-arms, or kindred subjects. He
+appeared to have no objections to the terms first proposed; or if he had
+a point to make against them, he wished to wait until they were in
+writing to make it. When he read over that part of the terms about
+side-arms, horses, and private property of the officers, he
+remarked--with some feeling, I thought--that this would have a happy
+effect upon his army.
+
+Then, after a little further conversation, General Lee remarked to me
+again that their army was organized a little diferently from the army of
+the United States (still maintaining by implication that we were two
+countries); that in their army the cavalrymen and artillerists owned
+their own horses: and he asked if he was to understand that the men who
+so owned their horses were to be permitted to retain them. I told him
+that as the terms were written they would not; that only the officers
+were permitted to take their private property. He then, after reading
+over the terms a second time, remarked that that was clear.
+
+I then said to him that I thought this would be about the last battle of
+the war--I sincerely hoped so; and I said further, I took it that most
+of the men in the ranks were small farmers. The whole country had been
+so raided by the two armies that it was doubtful whether they would be
+able to put in a crop to carry themselves and their families through the
+next winter without the aid of the horses they were then riding. The
+United States did not want them; and I would therefore instruct the
+officers I left behind to receive the paroles of his troops to let every
+man of the Confederate army who claimed to own a horse or mule take the
+animal to his home. Lee remarked again that this would have a happy
+effect.
+
+He then sat down and wrote out the following letter:--
+
+        HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA, April 9th, 1865.
+
+     GENERAL:--I received your letter of this date containing the
+     terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia as
+     proposed by you. As they are substantially the same as those
+     expressed in your letter of the 8th inst., they are accepted.
+     I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry the
+     stipulations into effect.
+
+                                                      R. E. LEE,
+                                                      General.
+
+        _Lieut.-General U. S. Grant._
+
+While duplicates of the two letters were being made, the Union generals
+present were severally presented to General Lee.
+
+The much-talked-of surrendering of Lee's sword and my handing it back,
+this and much more that has been said about it is the purest romance.
+The word sword or side-arms was not mentioned by either of us until I
+wrote it in the terms. There was no premeditation, and it did not occur
+to me until the moment I wrote it down. If I had happened to omit it,
+and General Lee had called my attention to it, I should have put it in
+the terms, precisely as I acceded to the provision about the soldiers
+retaining their horses.
+
+General Lee, after all was completed and before taking his leave,
+remarked that his army was in a very bad condition for want of food, and
+that they were without forage; that his men had been living for some
+days on parched corn exclusively, and that he would have to ask me for
+rations and forage. I told him "Certainly," and asked for how many men
+he wanted rations. His answer was "About twenty-five thousand"; and I
+authorized him to send his own commissary and quartermaster to
+Appomattox Station, two or three miles away, where he could have, out of
+the trains we had stopped, all the provisions wanted. As for forage, we
+had ourselves depended almost entirely upon the country for that.
+
+Generals Gibbon, Griffin, and Merritt were designated by me to carry
+into effect the paroling of Lee's troops before they should start for
+their homes,--General Lee leaving Generals Longstreet, Gordon, and
+Pendleton for them to confer with in order to facilitate this work. Lee
+and I then separated as cordially as we had met, he returning to his own
+lines, and all went into bivouac for the night at Appomattox.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY GRATTAN
+
+(1746-1820)
+
+[Illustration: HENRY GRATTAN]
+
+
+Henry Grattan, eminent among Irish orators and statesmen, was born in
+Dublin, July 3d, 1746. He graduated from Trinity College in 1767, became
+a law student of the Middle Temple, London, and was admitted to the bar
+in 1772. He soon became drawn into open political life, entering the
+Irish Parliament in 1775.
+
+In Parliament he espoused the popular cause. His memorable displays of
+oratory followed fast and plentifully. On April 19th, 1780, he attacked
+the right of England to legislate for Ireland. With that address his
+reputation was made. He became incessant in his efforts to remove
+oppressive legislation. By his eloquence he quickened into life a
+national spirit, to culminate in a convention at Dungannon on February
+15th, 1782, where resolutions in favor of legislative independence were
+stormily adopted. Presently, after a speech of surpassing power from
+him, the Declaration of Rights Bill was passed unanimously by both
+houses, with an unwilling enactment from England. The idol now of
+Ireland, Grattan was voted by its Parliament a grant of L50,000 "as a
+testimony of national gratitude for great national services." The next
+eighteen years saw him resolute to secure for Ireland liberal laws,
+greater commercial freedom, better conditions for the peasantry, the
+wiping out of Parliamentary corruption, and especially the absolute
+emancipation of the Roman Catholics. After the Union he lived in
+retirement, devoting himself to the study of the classics and to the
+education of his children until 1805. Then at the request of Fox he
+entered the imperial Parliament, making his first speech in favor of
+Fox's motion for a committee on the Roman Catholic Petition, an address
+described as "one of the most brilliant speeches ever made within the
+walls of Parliament." In 1806 he was elected a member for Dublin, which
+city he represented until his decease. His last speech was made on May
+5th, 1819, in favor of Roman Catholic emancipation. It is to be noted
+that he was by profession and conviction a Protestant. He died in 1820.
+He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the graves of Chatham and Fox.
+
+In spite of great natural drawbacks, Grattan achieved the highest rank
+as an orator; and his passionate eloquence has rarely been equaled in
+fervor and originality.
+
+
+
+ON THE CHARACTER OF CHATHAM
+
+
+The Secretary stood alone; modern degeneracy had not reached him.
+Original and unaccommodating, the features of his character had the
+hardihood of antiquity. His august mind overawed majesty; and one of his
+sovereigns thought royalty so impaired in his presence that he conspired
+to remove him, in order to be relieved from his superiority. No State
+chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar
+level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his
+object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he
+destroyed party; without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous.
+
+France sank beneath him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon,
+and wielded with the other the democracy of England. The sight of his
+mind was infinite; and his schemes were to affect, not England and the
+present age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were the means by
+which these schemes were accomplished; always seasonable, always
+adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated by order and
+enlightened by prophecy.
+
+The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indolent were
+unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness reached
+him; but aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its
+intercourse, he came occasionally into our system to counsel and to
+decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, and so
+authoritative astonished a corrupt age; and the treasury trembled at the
+name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined
+indeed that she had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of
+the ruin of his victories; but the history of his country and the
+calamities of the enemy refuted her.
+
+Nor were his political abilities his only talents: his eloquence was an
+era in the Senate; peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly expressing
+gigantic sentiments and instinctive wisdom; not like the torrent of
+Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully, it resembled
+sometimes the thunder and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did
+not, like Murray, conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety
+of argumentation, nor was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of
+exertion; but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point
+by flashings of the mind, which like those of his eye were felt but
+could not be followed.
+
+Upon the whole, there was something in this man that could create,
+subvert, or reform: an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to
+summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder and
+to rule the wilderness of free minds with unbounded authority; something
+that could establish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the
+world which should resound throughout the universe.
+
+
+
+OF THE INJUSTICE OF DISQUALIFICATION OF CATHOLICS
+
+From the Speech of May 31st, 1811
+
+
+Whatever belongs to the authority of God, or to the laws of nature, is
+necessarily beyond the province and sphere of human institution and
+government. The Roman Catholic, when you disqualify him on the ground of
+his religion, may with great justice tell you that you are not his God,
+that he cannot mold or fashion his faith by your decrees. You may
+inflict penalties, and he may suffer them in silence; but if Parliament
+assume the prerogative of Heaven, and enact laws to impose upon the
+people a different religion, the people will not obey such laws. If you
+pass an act to impose a tax or regulate a duty, the people can go to the
+roll to learn what are the provisions of the law. But whenever you take
+upon yourselves to legislate for God, though there may be truth in your
+enactments, you have no authority to enforce them. In such a case, the
+people will not go to the roll of Parliament, but to the Bible, the
+testament of God's will, to ascertain his law and their duty. When once
+man goes out of his sphere, and says he will legislate for God, he in
+fact makes himself God. But this I do not charge upon the Parliament,
+because in none of the Penal Acts has the Parliament imposed a
+religious creed. It is not to be traced in the qualification oath, nor
+in the declaration required. The qualifying oath, as to the great number
+of offices and seats in Parliament, scrupulously evades religious
+distinctions; a Dissenter of any class may take it, a Deist, an atheist,
+may likewise take it. The Catholics are alone excepted; and for what
+reason? Certainly not because the internal character of the Catholic
+religion is inherently vicious; not because it necessarily incapacitates
+those who profess it to make laws for their fellow-citizens. If a Deist
+be fit to sit in Parliament, it can hardly be urged that a Christian is
+unfit. If an atheist be competent to legislate for his country, surely
+this privilege cannot be denied to the believer in the divinity of our
+Savior. But let me ask you if you have forgotten what was the faith of
+your ancestors, or if you are prepared to assert that the men who
+procured your liberties are unfit to make your laws? Or do you forget
+the tempests by which the Dissenting classes of the community were at a
+former period agitated, or in what manner you fixed the rule of peace
+over that wild scene of anarchy and commotion? If we attend to the
+present condition and habits of these classes, do we not find their
+controversies subsisting in full vigor? and can it be said that their
+jarring sentiments and clashing interests are productive of any disorder
+in the State; or that the Methodist himself, in all his noisy
+familiarity with his Maker, is a dangerous or disloyal subject? Upon
+what principle can it be argued that the application of a similar policy
+would not conciliate the Catholics, and promote the general interests of
+the empire? I can trace the continuance of their incapacities to nothing
+else than a political combination; a combination that condemned the
+Catholic religion, not as a heresy, but as a symptom of a civil
+alienation. By this doctrine, the religion is not so much an evil in
+itself as a perpetual token of political disaffection. In the spirit of
+this liberal interpretation, you once decreed to take away their arms,
+and on another occasion ordered all Papists to be removed from London.
+In the whole subsequent course of administration, the religion has
+continued to be esteemed the infallible symptom of a propensity to
+rebel. Known or suspected Papists were once the objects of the severest
+jealousy and the bitterest enactments. Some of these statutes have been
+repealed, and the jealousy has since somewhat abated; but the same
+suspicions, although in a less degree, pervade your councils. Your
+imaginations are still infected with apprehensions of the proneness of
+the Catholics to make cause with a foreign foe. A treaty has lately been
+made with the King of the Two Sicilies. May I ask: Is his religion the
+evidence of the warmth of his attachment to your alliance? Does it enter
+into your calculation as one of the motives that must incline him to our
+friendship, in preference to the friendship of the State professing his
+own faith? A similar treaty has been recently entered into with the
+Prince Regent of Portugal, professing the Roman Catholic religion; and
+one million granted last year and two millions this session, for the
+defense of Portugal. Nay, even in the treaty with the Prince Regent of
+Portugal, there is an article which stipulates that we shall not make
+peace with France unless Portugal shall be restored to the house of
+Braganza. And has the Prince of Brazil's religion been considered
+evidence of his connection with the enemy? You have not one ally who is
+not Catholic; and will you continue to disqualify Irish Catholics, who
+fight with you and your allies, because their religion is evidence of
+disaffection?
+
+But if the Catholic religion be this evidence of repugnance, is
+Protestantism the proof of affection to the Crown and government of
+England? For an answer, let us look at America. In vain did you send
+your armies there; in vain did you appeal to the ties of common origin
+and common religion. America joined with France, and adopted a
+connection with a Catholic government. Turn to Prussia, and behold
+whether her religion has had any effect on her political character. Did
+the faith of Denmark prevent the attack on Copenhagen? It is admitted on
+all sides that the Catholics have demonstrated their allegiance in as
+strong a manner as the willing expenditure of blood and treasure can
+evince. And remember that the French go not near so far in their defense
+of Catholicism, as you in your hatred of it in your own subjects and
+your reverence for it in your allies. They have not scrupled to pull
+down the ancient fabrics of superstition in the countries subjected to
+their arms. Upon a review of these facts, I am justified in assuming
+that there is nothing inherent in Catholicism which either proves
+disaffection, or disqualifies for public trusts. The immediate inference
+is that they have as much right as any dissentient sect to the enjoyment
+of civil privileges and a participation of equal rights; that they are
+as fit morally and politically to hold offices in the State or seats in
+Parliament. Those who dispute the conclusion will find it their duty to
+controvert the reasoning on which it is founded. I do not believe the
+Church is in any danger; but if it is, I am sure that we are in a wrong
+way to secure it. If our laws will battle against Providence, there can
+be no doubt of the issue of the conflict between the ordinances of God
+and the decrees of man: transient must be the struggle, rapid the event.
+Let us suppose an extreme case, but applicable to the present point:
+Suppose the Thames were to inundate its banks, and suddenly swelling,
+enter this House during our deliberations (an event which I greatly
+deprecate, from my private friendship with many members who might happen
+to be present, and my sense of the great exertions which many of them
+have made for the public interest), and a motion of adjournment being
+made, should be opposed, and an address to Providence moved that it
+would be graciously pleased to turn back the overflow and direct the
+waters into another channel. This, it will be said, would be absurd; but
+consider whether you are acting upon a principle of greater intrinsic
+wisdom, when after provoking the resentments you arm and martialize the
+ambition of men, under the vain assurance that Providence will work a
+miracle in the constitution of human nature, and dispose it to pay
+injustice with affection, oppression with cordial support. This is in
+fact the true character of your expectations; nothing less than that the
+Author of the Universe should subvert his laws to ratify your statutes,
+and disturb the settled course of nature to confirm the weak, the base
+expedients of man. What says the Decalogue? Honor thy father. What says
+the penal law? Take away his estate! Again, says the Decalogue, Do not
+steal. The law, on the contrary, proclaims, You may rob a Catholic!
+
+
+
+ON THE DOWNFALL OF BONAPARTE
+
+From the Speech of May 25th, 1815
+
+
+The French government is war; it is a stratocracy, elective, aggressive,
+and predatory; her armies live to fight, and fight to live; their
+constitution is essentially war, and the object of that war the conquest
+of Europe. What such a person as Bonaparte at the head of such a
+constitution will do, you may judge by what he has done: and first he
+took possession of a greater part of Europe; he made his son King of
+Rome; he made his son-in-law Viceroy of Italy; he made his brother King
+of Holland; he made his brother-in-law King of Naples; he imprisoned the
+King of Spain; he banished the Regent of Portugal, and formed his plan
+to take possession of the Crown of England. England had checked his
+designs; her trident had stirred up his empire from its foundation. He
+complained of her tyranny at sea; but it was her power at sea which
+arrested his tyranny on land,--the navy of England saved Europe. Knowing
+this, he knew the conquest of England became necessary for the
+accomplishment of the conquest of Europe, and the destruction of her
+marine necessary for the conquest of England. Accordingly, besides
+raising an army of 60,000 men for the invasion of England, he applied
+himself to the destruction of her commerce, the foundation of her naval
+power. In pursuit of this object and on his plan of a Western empire, he
+conceived and in part executed the design of consigning to plunder and
+destruction the vast regions of Russia. He quits the genial clime of the
+temperate zone; he bursts through the narrow limits of an immense
+empire; he abandons comfort and security, and he hurries to the Pole to
+hazard them all, and with them the companions of his victories and the
+fame and fruits of his crimes and his talents, on speculation of leaving
+in Europe, throughout the whole of its extent, no one free or
+independent nation. To oppose this huge conception of mischief and
+despotism, the great potentate of the north from his gloomy recesses
+advances to defend himself against the voracity of ambition, amid the
+sterility of his empire. Ambition is omnivorous; it feasts on famine and
+sheds tons of blood, that it may starve in ice in order to commit a
+robbery on desolation. The power of the north, I say, joins another
+prince, whom Bonaparte had deprived of almost the whole of his
+authority,--the King of Prussia; and then another potentate, whom
+Bonaparte had deprived of the principal part of his dominions,--the
+Emperor of Austria. These three powers, physical causes, final justice,
+the influence of your victories in Spain and Portugal, and the spirit
+given to Europe by the achievements and renown of your great commander
+[the Duke of Wellington], together with the precipitation of his own
+ambition, combine to accomplish his destruction; Bonaparte is conquered.
+He who said, "I will be like the Most High," he who smote the nations
+with a continual stroke,--this short-lived son of the morning,
+Lucifer,--falls, and the earth is at rest; the phantom of royalty
+passes on to nothing, and the three kings to the gates of Paris: there
+they stand, the late victims of his ambition, and now the disposers of
+his destiny and the masters of his empire. Without provocation he had
+gone to their countries with fire and sword; with the greatest
+provocation they came to his country with life and liberty: they do an
+act unparalleled in the annals of history, such as nor envy, nor time,
+nor malice, nor prejudice, nor ingratitude can efface; they give to his
+subjects liberty, and to himself life and royalty. This is greater than
+conquest! The present race must confess their virtues, and ages to come
+must crown their monuments, and place them above heroes and kings in
+glory everlasting....
+
+Do you wish to confirm this military tyranny in the heart of Europe,--a
+tyranny founded on the triumph of the army over the principles of civil
+government, tending to universalize throughout Europe the domination of
+the sword,--and to reduce to paper and parchment, Magna Charta and all
+our civil constitutions? An experiment such as no country ever made and
+no good country would ever permit: to relax the moral and religious
+influences; to set heaven and earth adrift from one another, and make
+God Almighty a tolerated alien in his own creation; an insurrectionary
+hope to every bad man in the community, and a frightful lesson to profit
+and power, vested in those who have pandered their allegiance from king
+to emperor, and now found their pretensions to domination on the merit
+of breaking their oaths and deposing their sovereign. Should you do
+anything so monstrous as to leave your allies in order to confirm such a
+system; should you forget your name, forget your ancestors, and the
+inheritance they have left you of morality and renown; should you
+astonish Europe by quitting your allies to render immortal such a
+composition, would not the nations exclaim: "You have very providently
+watched over our interests, and very generously have you contributed to
+our service,--and do you falter now? In vain have you stopped in your
+own person the flying fortunes of Europe; in vain have you taken the
+eagle of Napoleon and snatched _invincibility_ from his standard, if
+now, when confederated Europe is ready to march, you take the lead in
+the desertion and preach the penitence of Bonaparte and the poverty of
+England."
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THOMAS GRAY.]
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS GRAY
+
+(1716-1771)
+
+BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
+
+
+The fame of Thomas Gray is unique among English poets, in that, although
+world-wide and luminous, it springs from a single poem, a flawless
+masterpiece,--the 'Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard.' This is the
+one production by which he is known to the great mass of readers and
+will continue to be known to coming generations; yet in his own time his
+other poems were important factors, in establishing the high repute
+accorded to him then and still maintained in the esteem of critics.
+Nevertheless, living to be nearly fifty-five and giving himself
+exclusively to letters, the whole of the work that he left behind him
+amounted only to some fourteen hundred lines.
+
+His value to literature and to posterity, therefore, is to be measured
+not by the quantity of his literary contributions or by any special
+variety in their scope, but by a certain wholesome and independent
+influence which he exerted upon the language of poetry, and by a rare
+quality of intense yet seemingly calm and almost repressed genius, which
+no one among his commentators has been able to define clearly. The most
+comprehensive thing ever written about him--wise, just, witty, yet
+sympathetic and penetrating--is the essay by James Russell Lowell in his
+final volume of criticism.
+
+     "It is the rarest thing," says Lowell, "to find genius and
+     dilettantism united in the same person (as for a time they
+     were in Goethe): for genius implies always a certain
+     fanaticism of temperament, which, if sometimes it seem
+     fitful, is yet capable of intense energy on occasion; while
+     the main characteristic of the dilettante is that sort of
+     impartiality which springs from inertia of mind, admirable
+     for observation, incapable of turning it to practical
+     account. Yet we have, I think, an example of this rare
+     combination of qualities in Gray; and it accounts both for
+     the kind of excellence to which he attained, and for the way
+     in which he disappointed expectation.... He is especially
+     interesting as an artist in words and phrases, a literary
+     type far less common among writers of English than it is in
+     France or Italy, where perhaps the traditions of Latin
+     culture were never wholly lost.... When so many have written
+     so much, we shall the more readily pardon the man who has
+     written too little or just enough."
+
+He was born in London, December 26th, 1716, the son of a money scrivener
+who had dissipated most of his inherited property, but was skilled in
+music, and perhaps transmitted to the son that musical element which
+gives beauty and strength to his poetry. Gray's mother was a woman of
+character, who with his aunt set up an India warehouse and supported
+herself; also sending the young man to St. Peter's College, Cambridge,
+after his studies at Eton. Leaving college without a degree, he traveled
+on the Continent of Europe with Horace Walpole in 1739; then returned to
+Cambridge and passed the remainder of his life in the university, as a
+bachelor of civil law nominally,--not practicing, but devoting himself
+to study and to excursions through rural England. He had a profound and
+passionate love for nature, a kind of religious exaltation in the
+contemplation of it and in mountain worship, which was at variance with
+the prevailing eighteenth-century literary mood and prefigured the
+feeling of Wordsworth. His mother having retired to Stoke Poges,
+Buckinghamshire, he often made visits there; and the church-yard of his
+deathless 'Elegy' is generally believed to be that of the parish church
+at Stoke Poges. It was here that he was laid to rest in the same tomb
+with his mother and his aunt, after his death, July 24th, 1771.
+
+The 'Elegy' was finished in 1749. He had begun writing it seven years
+before. This has sometimes been alluded to as an instance in point of
+Horace's advice, that a poem should be matured for seven years. The
+length of time given to the 'Elegy,' however, may be accounted for
+partly by Gray's dilatory habits of writing, and partly by the parallel
+of Tennyson's long delay in perfecting the utterance of his meditations
+on the death of his friend Hallam through 'In Memoriam.' Gray's dearest
+friend, Richard West, died in 1742; and it was apparently under the
+stress of that sorrow that he began the 'Elegy,' which was completed
+only in 1749. Two years later it was published. It won the popular heart
+immediately, and passed through four editions in the first twelvemonth.
+
+Of Gray's other poems, those which have left the deepest impression are
+his 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College,' 'The Progress of
+Poesy,' and 'The Bard.' The last two are somewhat Pindaric in style, but
+also suggest the influence of the Italian canzone. In the Eton College
+ode, his first published piece, occurs the phrase since grown
+proverbial, "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." It is a
+curious fact that while most readers know Gray only as the author of the
+'Elegy,' every one is familiar with certain lines coined by him, but
+unaware of their source. For instance, in 'The Progress of Poesy,' he
+speaks of
+
+  "The unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame."
+
+It is in the same place that he describes Milton as "blasted with excess
+of light," and in alluding to Dryden, evolves the image of
+
+  "Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."
+
+His, too, in 'The Bard,' is the now well-known line--
+
+  "Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm."
+
+Many of his finest expressions are in part derived from classic or other
+poets; but he showed undeniable genius in his adaptation,
+transformation, or new creation from these suggestive passages.
+
+Gray was small and delicate in person, handsome and refined, fond of
+fashionable dress, and preferred to be known as a "gentleman" rather
+than a poet. He was very reticent, somewhat melancholy, and an invalid;
+a man also of vast erudition, being learned not only in literature but
+in botany, zoology, antiquities, architecture, art, history, and
+philosophy as well. He enjoyed the distinction of refusing the post of
+poet laureate, after the death of Cibber. On the other hand, he coveted
+the place of professor of modern literature and languages at Cambridge
+University, to which he was appointed in 1769; but he never performed
+any of the duties of his professorship beyond that of drawing the
+salary.
+
+He brought forth nothing in the special kinds of knowledge which he had
+acquired in such large measure; and the actual ideas conveyed in his
+poetry were not original, but savored rather of the commonplace. Lowell
+says of the 'Elegy' that it won its popularity "not through any
+originality of thought, but far more through originality of sound."
+There must, however, be some deeper reason than this for the grasp which
+it has upon the minds and hearts of all classes. Two elements of power
+and popularity it certainly possessed in the highest degree. One is the
+singular simplicity of its language (a result of consummate art), which
+makes it understandable by everybody. The other is the depth and the
+sincerity of the emotion with which it imbues thoughts, sentiments, and
+reflections that are common to the whole of mankind. The very
+unproductiveness of Gray's mind in other directions probably helped this
+one product. The quintessence of all his learning, his perceptive
+faculty, and his meditations was infused into the life-blood of this
+immortal poem.
+
+                                 [Signature: George Parsons Lathrop]
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: _STOKE POGES CHURCH AND CHURCHYARD._
+  The burial-place of Thomas Gray and the scene of his famous Elegy.
+  Photogravure from a Photograph.]
+
+
+
+ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD
+
+
+  The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
+    The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
+  The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
+    And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
+
+  Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
+    And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
+  Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
+    And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
+
+  Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
+    The moping owl does to the moon complain
+  Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
+    Molest her ancient, solitary reign.
+
+  Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
+    Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap,
+  Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+    The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+  The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
+    The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
+  The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
+    No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
+
+  For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
+    Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
+  No children run to lisp their sire's return,
+    Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share
+
+  Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;
+    Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
+  How jocund did they drive their team afield!
+    How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
+
+  Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+    Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+  Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
+    The short and simple annals of the poor.
+
+  The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power,
+    And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+  Await alike th' inevitable hour:
+    The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
+
+  Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
+    If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
+  Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,
+    The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
+
+  Can storied urn or animated bust
+    Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
+  Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
+    Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?
+
+  Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
+    Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
+  Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
+    Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
+
+  But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
+    Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
+  Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
+    And froze the genial current of the soul.
+
+  Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+    The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
+  Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+    And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+  Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
+    The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
+  Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest;
+    Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
+
+  Th' applause of listening senates to command,
+    The threats of Pain and Ruin to despise,
+  To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
+    And read their history in a nation's eyes,--
+
+  Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone
+    Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
+  Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
+    And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;
+
+  The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide,
+    To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame,
+  Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+    With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
+
+  [The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow,
+    Exalt the brave, and idolize success;
+  But more to Innocence their safety owe,
+    Than Power and Genius e'er conspired to bless.]
+
+  [Hark, how the sacred calm that broods around
+    Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease,
+  In still, small accents whispering from the ground
+    A grateful earnest of eternal peace.]
+
+  Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
+    Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
+  Along the cool, sequestered vale of life
+    They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
+
+  Yet even these bones from insult to protect,
+    Some frail memorial, still erected nigh,
+  With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
+    Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
+
+  Their names, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,
+    The place of fame and elegy supply;
+  And many a holy text around she strews,
+    That teach the rustic moralist to die.
+
+  For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
+    This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
+  Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
+    Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
+
+  On some fond breast the parting soul relies;
+    Some pious drops the closing eye requires:
+  E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries;
+    E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
+
+  For thee who, mindful of th' unhonored dead,
+    Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
+  If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
+    Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
+
+  Haply some hoary-headed swain may say:--
+    "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
+  Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
+    To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
+
+  "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
+    That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
+  His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
+    And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
+
+  "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
+    Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;
+  Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
+    Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
+
+  "One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,
+    Along the heath, and near his favorite tree:
+  Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
+    Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he:
+
+  "The next, with dirges due in sad array,
+    Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne;--
+  Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
+    Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."
+
+  ["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year,
+    By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;
+  The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
+    And little footsteps lightly print the ground."]
+
+  THE EPITAPH
+
+  Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
+    A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;
+  Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
+    And Melancholy marked him for her own.
+
+  Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
+    Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
+  He gave to Misery all he had,--a tear;
+    He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
+
+  No farther seek his merits to disclose,
+    Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
+  (There they alike in trembling hope repose,)--
+    The Bosom of his Father and his God.
+
+    [The stanzas included in brackets were omitted by Gray in the
+    first edition of the 'Elegy,' and as sanctioned by him or by
+    later editors are (except as to the third one) of infrequent
+    appearance in the poem.]
+
+
+
+ODE ON THE SPRING
+
+
+  Lo! Where the rosy-bosomed Hours,
+    Fair Venus's train, appear,
+  Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
+    And wake the purple year!
+  The Attic warbler pours her throat,
+  Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
+    The untaught harmony of spring;
+  While, whispering pleasure as they fly,
+  Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky
+    Their gathered fragrance fling.
+
+  Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
+    A broader, browner shade,
+  Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
+    O'er-canopies the glade,
+  Beside some water's rushy brink
+  With me the Muse shall sit, and think
+    (At ease reclined in rustic state)
+  How vain the ardor of the crowd,
+  How low, how little are the proud,
+    How indigent the great!
+
+  Still is the toiling hand of Care;
+    The panting herds repose:
+  Yet hark! how through the peopled air
+    The busy murmur glows!
+  The insect-youth are on the wing,
+  Eager to taste the honeyed spring,
+    And float amid the liquid noon;
+  Some lightly o'er the current skim,
+  Some show their gayly gilded trim
+    Quick-glancing to the sun.
+
+  To Contemplation's sober eye
+    Such is the race of Man;
+  And they that creep, and they that fly,
+    Shall end where they began.
+  Alike the Busy and the Gay
+  But flutter through life's little day,
+    In Fortune's varying colors drest;
+  Brushed by the hand of rough Mischance,
+  Or chilled by Age, their airy dance
+    They leave, in dust to rest.
+
+  Methinks I hear, in accents low,
+    The sportive kind reply:
+  Poor moralist! and what art thou?
+    A solitary fly!
+  Thy joys no glittering female meets,
+  No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
+    No painted plumage to display:
+  On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
+  Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone--
+    We frolic while 'tis May.
+
+
+
+ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE
+
+
+  Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
+    That crown the watery glade,
+  Where grateful Science still adores
+    Her Henry's holy shade;
+  And ye, that from the stately brow
+  Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
+    Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
+  Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
+  Wanders the hoary Thames along
+    His silver-winding way!
+
+  Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
+    Ah, fields beloved in vain!
+  Where once my careless childhood strayed,
+    A stranger yet to pain!
+  I feel the gales that from ye blow
+  A momentary bliss bestow,
+    As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
+  My weary soul they seem to soothe,
+  And, redolent of joy and youth,
+    To breathe a second spring.
+
+  Say, Father Thames,--for thou hast seen
+    Full many a sprightly race
+  Disporting on thy margent green,
+    The paths of pleasure trace,--
+  Who foremost now delight to cleave
+  With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
+    The captive linnet which enthrall?
+  What idle progeny succeed
+  To chase the rolling circle's speed,
+    Or urge the flying ball?
+
+  While some, on earnest business bent,
+    Their murmuring labors ply
+  'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint
+    To sweeten liberty:
+  Some bold adventurers disdain
+  The limits of their little reign,
+    And unknown regions dare descry,
+  Still as they run they look behind,
+  They hear a voice in every wind,
+    And snatch a fearful joy.
+
+  Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
+    Less pleasing when possest;
+  The tear forgot as soon as shed,
+    The sunshine of the breast:
+  Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,
+  Wild wit, invention ever new,
+    And lively cheer, of vigor born;
+  The thoughtless day, the easy night,
+  The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
+    That fly th' approach of morn.
+
+  Alas! regardless of their doom,
+    The little victims play;
+  No sense have they of ills to come,
+    No care beyond to-day:
+  Yet see, how all around them wait
+  The ministers of human fate,
+    And black Misfortune's baleful train!
+  Ah, show them where in ambush stand,
+  To seize their prey, the murtherous band!
+    Ah! tell them they are men!
+
+  These shall the fury Passions tear,
+    The vultures of the mind,
+  Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
+    And Shame that skulks behind;
+  Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
+  Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
+    That inly gnaws the secret heart;
+  And Envy wan, and faded Care,
+  Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
+    And Sorrow's piercing dart.
+
+  Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
+    Then whirl the wretch from high,
+  To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
+    And grinning Infamy.
+  The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
+  And hard Unkindness's altered eye,
+    That mocks the tear it forced to flow;
+  And keen Remorse with blood defiled,
+  And moody Madness laughing wild
+    Amid severest woe.
+
+  Lo! in the vale of years beneath
+    A grisly troop are seen,--
+  The painful family of Death,
+    More hideous than their queen:
+  This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
+  That every laboring sinew strains,
+    Those in the deeper vitals rage:
+  Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,
+  That numbs the soul with icy hand,
+    And slow-consuming Age.
+
+  To each his sufferings: all are men,
+    Condemned alike to groan;
+  The tender for another's pain,
+    Th' unfeeling for his own.
+  Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,
+  Since sorrow never comes too late,
+    And happiness too swiftly flies?
+  Thought would destroy their Paradise.
+  No more: where ignorance is bliss,
+    'Tis folly to be wise.
+
+
+
+THE BARD
+
+A PINDARIC ODE
+
+
+        "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+      Confusion on thy banners wait!
+    Though fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,
+      They mock the air with idle state.
+        Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
+    Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+      To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,--
+        From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+    Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+      Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,
+    As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
+      He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+    Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
+  "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance.
+
+        On a rock, whose haughty brow
+    Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,
+        Robed in the sable garb of woe,
+    With haggard eyes the poet stood;
+        (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+    Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air;)
+    And with a master's hand and prophet's fire,
+      Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:
+    "Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave,
+      Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+    O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,
+      Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+    Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+  To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+          "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+        That hushed the stormy main;
+    Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed;
+        Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+          Modred, whose magic song
+    Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
+        On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,
+      Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:
+    Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;
+      The famished eagle screams, and passes by.
+    Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+      Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+    Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
+      Ye died amidst your dying country's cries.
+        No more I weep: they do not sleep;
+          On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
+        I see them sit; they linger yet,
+          Avengers of their native land;
+    With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+  And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+        "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
+      The winding-sheet of Edward's race;
+        Give ample room, and verge enough,
+      The characters of hell to trace;
+        Mark the year, and mark the night,
+      When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+  The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,
+          Shrieks of an agonizing King!
+      She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
+    That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+      From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+    The scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait!
+      Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,
+  And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+            "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+          Low on his funeral couch he lies!
+            No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+          A tear to grace his obsequies.
+            Is the sable warrior fled?
+  Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+  The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?
+          Gone to salute the rising morn.
+  Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
+      While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+  In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:
+      Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+    Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
+  That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+            "Fill high the sparkling bowl!
+              The rich repast prepare!
+  Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+              Close by the regal chair
+            Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
+  A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+            Heard ye the din of battle bray,
+          Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+  Long years of havoc urge their destined course,
+      And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+  Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
+      With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+  Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+      And spare the meek usurper's holy head.
+            Above, below, the rose of snow,
+          Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:
+            The bristled boar in infant-gore
+          Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+  Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
+  Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+            "Edward, lo! to sudden fate
+          (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+            Half of thy heart we consecrate.
+          (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+            Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
+    Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:
+    In yon bright track that fires the western skies,
+        They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+    But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+      Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+    Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
+      Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+    No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+  All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+          "Girt with many a baron bold,
+        Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+          And gorgeous dames and statesmen old
+        In bearded majesty appear.
+          In the midst a form divine!
+    Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line;
+    Her lion port, her awe-commanding face,
+          Attempered sweet to virgin grace.
+    What strings symphonious tremble in the air;
+      What strains of vocal transport round her play!
+    Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear!
+      They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+    Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
+  Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.
+
+            "The verse adorn again
+            Fierce war, and faithful love,
+    And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
+            In buskined measures move
+            Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+    With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+          A voice, as of the cherub choir,
+        Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+    And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+      That lost in long futurity expire.
+    Fond impious man, thinkest thou yon sanguine cloud,
+      Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
+    To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
+      And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+          Enough for me; with joy I see
+            The different doom our fates assign;
+          Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+            To triumph and to die are mine."
+    He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+  Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY
+
+BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS
+
+
+The greater monuments of Greece all men know, the incomparable peaks of
+the chain; and the chain lasted seventeen hundred years, nor ever sank
+to the dead level about. The steadfast sight of these great Greek
+originals warps and dwarfs our conception of Greek life. We behold the
+Parthenon; we forget that each village shrine had its sense of
+proportion and subtle curve. The Venus of Melos we remember, and the
+Victory is poised forever on its cliff; but Tanagra figurines tell as
+much, and reveal more, of Greek life. Nor is it otherwise in letters.
+The great names all know. For a brief span they stood close together,
+and the father who heard AEschylus might have told his experience to his
+long-lived son who read Aristotle, while between the two stood all the
+greatest genius that makes Greece Greek,--save only Homer. So brief was
+the noonday,--and it is at high noon, and high noon only, that men have
+agreed to take the sun; but this uplift was gained in the ascent of nigh
+two hundred years from the first written Greek literature that still
+lives. The descent, to the last of the Greek verse which still remained
+poetry, ran through thirteen centuries. Over all this prodigious span of
+fifteen hundred years stretches the Greek Anthology, a collection of
+4,063 short Greek poems, two to eight lines long for the most part,
+collected and re-collected through more than a thousand years. The first
+of these poets, Mimnermus, was the contemporary of Jeremiah, and dwelt
+in cities that shuddered over tidings of Babylonian invasion. The last,
+Cometas, was the contemporary of Edward the Confessor, and dreaded
+Seljuk and Turk.
+
+As the epic impulse faded, and before Greek genius for tragedy rose, the
+same race and dialect which had given epic narrative the proud, full
+verse that filled like a sail to zephyr and to storm alike, devised the
+elegiac couplet. With its opening even flow, its swifter rush in the
+second line, and its abrupt pause, it was a medium in which not
+narrative but man spoke, whether personal in passion, or impersonal in
+the dedication of a statue, or in epitaph. This verse had conventions as
+rigorous and restrained as the sonnet, and was briefer. It served as
+well for the epitaph of Thermopylae as for the cradle-bier of a child,
+dead new-born; and lent itself as gracefully to the gift of a bunch of
+roses as it swelled with some sonorous blast of patriotism. It could
+sharpen to a gibe, or sink to a wail at untoward fate. Through a period
+twice as long as the life of English letters, these short poems set
+forth the vision of life, the ways and works of men, the love and death
+of mortals. These lines of weight, of moment, always of grace and often
+of inspiration, stood on milestones; they graced the base of statues;
+they were inscribed on tombs; they stood over doorways; they were
+painted on vases. The rustic shrines held them, and on the front of the
+great temple they were borne. In this form, friend wrote to friend and
+lover to lover. Four or five of the best express the emotion of the
+passing Greek traveler at the statue of Memnon on the Nile. The quality
+of verse that fills the inn album to-day we all know; but Greek life was
+so compact of form and thought that even this unknown traveler's verse,
+scrawled with a stylus, still thrills, still rings, as the statue still
+sounds its ancient note.
+
+In this long succession of short poems is delineated the Greek
+character, not of Athens but of the whole circle of the Mediterranean.
+The sphered life of the race is in its subjects. Each great Greek
+victory has its epigrams. In them, statues have an immortal life denied
+to marble and to bronze. The critical admiration of the Hellene for his
+great men of letters stands recorded here; his early love for the heroes
+of his brief-lived freedom, and his sedulous flattery of the Roman lords
+of his slavery. Here too is his domestic life, its joy and its sorrow.
+In this epigram, the maid dedicates her dolls to Artemis; and in that,
+the mother, mother and priestess both, lays down a life overflowing in
+good deeds and fruited with honorable offspring. The splendid side of
+Greek life is painted elsewhere. Here is its homely simplicity. The
+fisher again spreads his nets and the sailor his peaked lateen sail. The
+hunter sets his snares and tracks his game in the light snow. The caged
+partridge stretches its weary wings in its cage, and the cat has for it
+a modern appetite. Men gibe and jest. They see how hollow life is, and
+also how truth rings true. Love is here, sacred and revered, in forms
+pure and holy; and not less, that foul pool decked with beauty in which
+Greek manhood lost its masculine virtue.
+
+Half a century before Christ, when Greek life overspread the eastern
+Mediterranean, and in every market-place Greek was the tongue of trade,
+of learning, and of gentle breeding, Greek letters grew conscious of its
+own riches. For six centuries and more, or as long as separates us from
+Chaucer, men had been writing these brief epigrams. The first had the
+brevity of Simonides, the next Alexandrian luxuriance. Many were carved
+by those who wrote much; more by those who composed but two or three. In
+Syrian Gadara there dwelt a Greek, Meleager, whose poetry is the very
+flower of fervent Greek verse. Yet so near did he live to the great
+change which was to overturn the gods he loved, and substitute morality
+for beauty as the mainspring of life, that some who knew him must also,
+a brief span of years later, have known Jesus the Christ. Meleager was
+the first who gathered Greek epigrams in an Anthology, prefacing it with
+such apt critical utterance as has been the despair of all critics
+called since to weigh verse in ruder scales and with a poise less
+perfect. He had the wide round of the best of Greek to pick from, and he
+chose with unerring taste. To his collection Philippus of Thessalonica,
+working when Paul was preaching in Jason's house, added the work of the
+Roman period, the fourth development of the epigram. Other collections
+between have perished, one in the third or Byzantine period, in which
+this verse had a renaissance under Justinian. In the tenth century a
+Byzantine scholar, Constantinos Cephalas, rearranged his predecessors'
+collections,--Meleager's included,--and brought together the largest
+number which has come down to us. The collection is known to-day as the
+'Palatine Anthology,' from the library which long owned it. His work was
+in the last flare of life in the Lower Empire, when Greek heroism, for
+the last time, stemmed the Moslem tide and gave Eastern Europe
+breathing-space. When his successor Maximus Planudes, of the century of
+Petrarch,--monk, diplomat, theologian, and phrase-maker,--addressed
+himself to the last collection made, the shadow of new Italy lay over
+Greek life, and the Galilean had recast the minds of men. He excluded
+much that Greeks, from Meleager to Cephalas, had freely admitted, and
+which modern lovers of the Anthology would be willing to see left out of
+all copies but their own. The collection of Planudes long remained alone
+known (first edition Florence, 1594). That of Cephalas survived in a
+single manuscript of varied fortune, seen in 1606 by Salmasius at
+eighteen,--happy boy, and happy manuscript!--lost to learning for a
+century and a half in the Vatican, published by Brunck, 1776, and
+finally edited by Frederic Jacobs, 1794-1803, five volumes of text and
+three of comment, usually bound in eight. The text has been republished
+by Tauchnitz, and the whole work has its most convenient and familiar
+form for scholars in the edition of both the collections of Planudes and
+Cephalas, with epigrams from all other sources prepared by Frederic
+Duebner for Didot's 'Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum,' 1864-1872, three
+volumes. The Anthology as a whole has no adequate English translation.
+About one-third of the poems have a prose translation by George Burges
+in the 'Greek Anthology,' 1832, of Bohn's series, with versions in verse
+by many hands.
+
+The first English translation of selections appeared anonymously, 1791.
+Others have succeeded: Robert Bland and John Herman Merivale, 1806;
+Robert Bland, 1813; Richard Garnett, 1864; Sir Edwin Arnold, 1869; John
+Addington Symonds, 1873; J.W. Mackail, 1890; Lilla Cabot Perry, 1891. A
+collection of selected translations edited by Graham R. Tomson was
+published in 1889. Of these partial versions, the only one which
+approaches the incommunicable charm of the original is Mr. Mackail's, an
+incomparable translation. His versions are freely used in the selections
+which follow. All the metrical versions, except those by Mrs. Perry, are
+from Miss Tomson's collection. But no translation equals the sanity, the
+brevity, the clarity of the Greek original, qualities which have made
+these epigrams consummate models of style to the modern world. In all
+the round of literature, the only exact analogue of the Greek epigram is
+the Japanese "ode," with its thirty syllables, its single idea, and its
+constant use of all classes as an universal medium of familiar poetic
+expression. Of like nature, used alike for epigraph, epitaph, and
+familiar personal expression, is the rhymed Arabic Makotta, brief poems
+written in one form for eighteen hundred years, and still written.
+
+                                       [Signature: TALCOTT WILLIAMS]
+
+
+ON THE ATHENIAN DEAD AT PLATAEA
+
+SIMONIDES (556-467 B.C.)
+
+If to die nobly is the chief part of excellence, to us out of all men
+Fortune gave this lot; for hastening to set a crown of freedom on
+Greece, we lie possessed of praise that grows not old.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ON THE LACEDAEMONIAN DEAD AT PLATAEA
+
+SIMONIDES
+
+These men, having set a crown of imperishable glory on their own land,
+were folded in the dark clouds of death; yet being dead they have not
+died, since from on high their excellence raises them gloriously out of
+the house of Hades.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ON A SLEEPING SATYR
+
+PLATO (429-347 B. C.)
+
+This satyr Diodorus engraved not, but laid to rest; your touch will wake
+him; the silver is asleep.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A POET'S EPITAPH
+
+SIMMIAS OF THEBES (405 B.C.)
+
+  Quietly, o'er the tomb of Sophocles,
+  Quietly, ivy, creep with tendrils green;
+  And roses, ope your petals everywhere,
+  While dewy shoots of grape-vine peep between,
+  Upon the wise and honeyed poet's grave,
+  Whom Muse and Grace their richest treasures gave.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+WORSHIP IN SPRING
+
+THEAETETUS (Fourth Century B. C.)
+
+Now at her fruitful birth-tide the fair green field flowers out in
+blowing roses; now on the boughs of the colonnaded cypresses the cicala,
+mad with music, lulls the binder of sheaves; and the careful mother
+swallow, having finished houses under the eaves, gives harborage to her
+brood in the mud-plastered cells; and the sea slumbers, with
+zephyr-wooing calm spread clear over the broad ship-tracks, not breaking
+in squalls on the stemposts, not vomiting foam upon the beaches. O
+sailor, burn by the altars the glittering round of a mullet, or a
+cuttle-fish, or a vocal scarus, to Priapus, ruler of ocean and giver of
+anchorage; and so go fearlessly on thy seafaring to the bounds of the
+Ionian Sea.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+SPRING ON THE COAST
+
+LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM (Third Century B. C.)
+
+Now is the season of sailing; for already the chattering swallow is
+come, and the gracious west wind; the meadows flower, and the sea,
+tossed up with waves and rough blasts, has sunk to silence. Weigh thine
+anchors and unloose thine hawsers, O mariner, and sail with all thy
+canvas set: this I, Priapus of the harbor, bid thee, O man, that thou
+mayest set forth to all thy trafficking.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A YOUNG HERO'S EPITAPH.
+
+DIOSCORIDES (Third Century B. C.)
+
+Home to Petana comes Thrasybulus lifeless on his shield, seven Argive
+wounds before. His bleeding boy the father Tynnichos lays on the pyre,
+to say:--"Let your wounds weep. Tearless I bury you, my boy--mine and my
+country's."
+
+                                    Translation of Talcott Williams.
+
+
+LOVE
+
+POSIDIPPUS (Third Century B. C.)
+
+Jar of Athens, drip the dewy juice of wine, drip, let the feast to which
+all bring their share be wetted as with dew; be silenced the swan-sage
+Zeno, and the Muse of Cleanthes, and let bitter-sweet Love be our
+concern.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+SORROW'S BARREN GRAVE
+
+HERACLEITUS (Third Century B. C.)
+
+  Keep off, keep off thy hand, O husbandman,
+  Nor through this grave's calm dust thy plowshare drive;
+  These very sods have once been mourned upon,
+  And on such ground no crop will ever thrive,
+  Nor corn spring up with green and feathery ears,
+  From earth that has been watered by such tears.
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+TO A COY MAIDEN
+
+ASCLEPIADES (286 B.C.)
+
+  Believe me love, it is not good
+  To hoard a mortal maidenhood;
+  In Hades thou wilt never find,
+  Maiden, a lover to thy mind;
+  Love's for the living! presently
+  Ashes and dust in death are we!
+
+                                         Translation of Andrew Lang.
+
+
+THE EMPTIED QUIVER
+
+MNESALCUS (Second Century B.C.)
+
+This bending bow and emptied quiver, Promachus hangs as a gift to thee,
+Phoebus. The swift shafts men's hearts hold, whom they called to death
+in the battle's rout.
+
+                                    Translation of Talcott Williams.
+
+
+THE TALE OF TROY
+
+ALPHEUS (First Century B.C.)
+
+Still we hear the wail of Andromache, still we see all Troy toppling
+from her foundations, and the battling Ajax, and Hector, bound to the
+horses, dragged under the city's crown of towers,--through the Muse of
+Maeonides, the poet with whom no one country adorns herself as her own,
+but the zones of both worlds.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+HEAVEN HATH ITS STARS
+
+MARCUS ARGENTARIUS (First Century B.C.)
+
+  Feasting, I watch with westward-looking eye
+  The flashing constellations' pageantry,
+  Solemn and splendid; then anon I wreathe
+  My hair, and warbling to my harp I breathe
+  My full heart forth, and know the heavens look down
+  Pleased, for they also have their Lyre and Crown.
+
+                                     Translation of Richard Garnett.
+
+
+PAN OF THE SEA-CLIFF
+
+ARCHIAS (First Century B.C.)
+
+Me, Pan, the fishermen placed upon this holy cliff,--Pan of the
+sea-shore, the watcher here over the fair anchorages of the harbor: and
+I take care now of the baskets and again of the trawlers off this shore.
+But sail thou by, O stranger, and in requital of this good service of
+theirs I will send behind thee a gentle south wind.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ANACREON'S GRAVE
+
+ANTIPATER OF SIDON (First Century B.C.)
+
+O stranger who passeth by the humble tomb of Anacreon, if thou hast had
+aught of good from my books, pour libation on my ashes, pour libation of
+the jocund grape, that my bones may rejoice, wetted with wine; so I, who
+was ever deep in the wine-steeped revels of Dionysus, I who was bred
+among drinking-tunes, shall not even when dead endure without Bacchus
+this place to which the generation of mortals must come.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+REST AT NOON
+
+MELEAGER (First Century B.C.)
+
+Voiceful cricket, drunken with drops of dew, thou playest thy rustic
+music that murmurs in the solitude, and perched on the leaf edges
+shrillest thy lyre-tune with serrated legs and swart skin. But, my dear,
+utter a new song for the tree-nymphs' delight, and make thy harp-notes
+echo to Pan's, that escaping Love I may seek out sleep at noon, here,
+lying under the shady plane.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+"IN THE SPRING A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY"
+
+MELEAGER
+
+  Now the white iris blossoms, and the rain-loving narcissus,
+    And now again the lily, the mountain-roaming, blows.
+  Now too, the flower of lovers, the crown of all the springtime,
+    Zenophila the winsome, doth blossom with the rose.
+  O meadows, wherefore vainly in your radiant garlands laugh ye?
+    Since fairer is the maiden than any flower that grows!
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+MELEAGER'S OWN EPITAPH
+
+MELEAGER
+
+Tread softly, O stranger; for here an old man sleeps among the holy
+dead, lulled in the slumber due to all; Meleager son of Eucrates, who
+united Love of the sweet tears and the Muses with the joyous Graces;
+whom god-begotten Tyre brought to manhood, and the sacred land of
+Gadara, but lovely Cos nursed in old age among the Meropes. But if thou
+art a Syrian, say "Salam," and if a Phoenician, "Naidios," and if a
+Greek, "Hail": they are the same.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+PHILODEMUS (60 B.C.)
+
+I was in love once; who has not been? I have reveled; who is uninitiated
+in revels? Nay, I was mad; at whose prompting but a god's? Let them go;
+for now the silver hair is fast replacing the black, a messenger of
+wisdom that comes with age. We too played when the time of playing was;
+and now that it is no longer, we will turn to worthier thoughts.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+DOCTOR AND DIVINITY
+
+NICARCHUS
+
+Marcus the doctor called yesterday on the marble Zeus; though marble,
+and though Zeus, his funeral is to-day.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+LOVE'S IMMORTALITY
+
+STRATO (First Century A.D.)
+
+Who may know if a loved one passes the prime, while ever with him and
+never left alone? Who may not satisfy to-day who satisfied yesterday?
+and if he satisfy, what should befall him not to satisfy to-morrow?
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+AS THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD
+
+STRATO
+
+If thou boast in thy beauty, know that the rose too blooms, but quickly
+being withered, is cast on the dunghill; for blossom and beauty have the
+same time allotted to them, and both together envious time withers away.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+SUMMER SAILING
+
+ANTIPHILUS (First Century A.D.)
+
+Mine be a mattress on the poop, and the awnings over it, sounding with
+the blows of the spray, and the fire forcing its way out of the
+hearthstones, and a pot upon them with empty turmoil of bubbles; and let
+me see the boy dressing the meat, and my table be a ship's plank covered
+with a cloth; and a game of pitch-and-toss, and the boatswain's whistle:
+the other day I had such fortune, for I love common life.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE GREAT MYSTERIES
+
+CRINAGORAS (First Century A.D.)
+
+Though thy life be fixed in one seat, and thou sailest not the sea nor
+treadest the roads on dry land, yet by all means go to Attica, that thou
+mayest see those great nights of the worship of Demeter; whereby thou
+shalt possess thy soul without care among the living, and lighter when
+thou must go to the place that awaiteth all.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+TO PRIAPUS OF THE SHORE
+
+MAECIUS (Roman period)
+
+Priapus of the sea-shore, the trawlers lay before thee these gifts by
+the grace of thine aid from the promontory, having imprisoned a tunny
+shoal in their nets of spun hemp in the green sea entrances: a beechen
+cup, and a rude stool of heath, and a glass cup holding wine, that thou
+mayest rest thy foot, weary and cramped with dancing, while thou chasest
+away the dry thirst.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE COMMON LOT
+
+AMMIANUS (Second Century A.D.)
+
+Though thou pass beyond thy landmarks even to the pillars of Heracles,
+the share of earth that is equal to all men awaits thee, and thou shalt
+lie even as Irus, having nothing more than thine obelus moldering into a
+land that at last is not thine.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+"TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW"
+
+MACEDONIUS (Third Century A.D.)
+
+"To-morrow I will look on thee,"--but that never comes for us, while the
+accustomed putting-off ever grows and grows. This is all thy grace to my
+longing; and to others thou bearest other gifts, despising my faithful
+service. "I will see thee at evening." And what is the evening of a
+woman's life?--old age, full of a million wrinkles.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE PALACE GARDEN
+
+ARABIUS (527-567 A.D.)
+
+I am filled with waters, and gardens, and groves, and vineyards, and the
+joyousness of the bordering sea; and fisherman and farmer from different
+sides stretch forth to me the pleasant gifts of sea and land: and them
+who abide in me, either a bird singing or the sweet cry of the ferrymen
+lulls to rest.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE YOUNG WIFE
+
+JULIANUS AEGYPTIUS (532 A.D.)
+
+In season the bride-chamber held thee, out of season the grave took
+thee, O Anastasia, flower of the blithe Graces; for thee a father, for
+thee a husband pours bitter tears; for thee haply even the ferryman of
+the dead weeps; for not a whole year didst thou accomplish beside thine
+husband, but at sixteen years old, alas! the tomb holds thee.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A NAMELESS GRAVE
+
+PAULUS SILENTIARIUS
+
+  My name, my country, what are they to thee?
+  What, whether proud or bare my pedigree?
+  Perhaps I far surpassed all other men;
+  Perhaps I fell below them all. What then?
+  Suffice it, stranger, that thou seest a tomb.
+  Thou knowest its use. It hides--no matter whom.
+
+                                      Translation of William Cowper.
+
+
+RESIGNATION
+
+JOANNES BARBUCALLUS (Sixth Century A.D.)
+
+Gazing upon my husband as my last thread was spun, I praised the gods
+of death, and I praised the gods of marriage,--those, that I left my
+husband alive, and these, that he was even such an one; but may he
+remain, a father for our children.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE HOUSE OF THE RIGHTEOUS
+
+MACEDONIUS (Sixth Century A.D.)
+
+Righteousness has raised this house from the first foundation even to
+the lofty roof; for Macedonius fashioned not his wealth by heaping up
+from the possessions of others with plundering sword, nor has any poor
+man here wept over his vain and profitless toil, being robbed of his
+most just hire; and as rest from labor is kept inviolate by the just
+man, so let the works of pious mortals endure.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+LOVE'S FERRIAGE
+
+AGATHIAS (527-565 A.D.)
+
+  Since she was watched and could not kiss me closely,
+    Divine Rhodanthe cast her maiden zone
+  From off her waist, and holding it thus loosely
+    By the one end, she put a kiss thereon;
+  Then I--Love's stream as through a channel taking--
+    My lips upon the other end did press
+  And drew the kisses in, while ceaseless making,
+    Thus from afar, reply to her caress.
+  So the sweet girdle did beguile our pain,
+    Being a ferry for our kisses twain.
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+[The following are undetermined in date.]
+
+
+ON A FOWLER
+
+ISIDORUS
+
+  With reeds and bird-lime from the desert air
+  Eumelus gathered free though scanty fare.
+  No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kiss,
+  Nor luxury knew, save liberty, nor bliss.
+  Thrice thirty years he lived, and to his heirs
+  His reeds bequeathed, his bird-lime, and his snares.
+
+                                      Translation of William Cowper.
+
+
+YOUTH AND RICHES
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+I was young, but poor; now in old age I am rich: alas, alone of all men
+pitiable in both, who then could enjoy when I had nothing, and now have
+when I cannot enjoy.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE SINGING REED
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+I the reed was a useless plant; for out of me grow not figs, nor apple,
+nor grape cluster: but man consecrated me a daughter of Helicon,
+piercing my delicate lips and making me the channel of a narrow stream;
+and thenceforth whenever I sip black drink, like one inspired I speak
+all words with this voiceless mouth.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+FIRST LOVE AGAIN REMEMBERED
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+  While yet the grapes were green thou didst refuse me;
+    When they were ripe, didst proudly pass me by:
+  But do not grudge me still a single cluster,
+    Now that the grapes are withering and dry.
+
+                                      Translation of Alma Strettell.
+
+
+SLAVE AND PHILOSOPHER
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+  I Epictetus was a slave while here,
+  Deformed in body, and like Irus poor,
+  Yet to the gods immortal I was dear.
+
+              Translation of Lilla Cabot Perry, by permission of the
+              American Publishers' Corporation.
+
+
+GOOD-BY TO CHILDHOOD
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Her tambourines and pretty ball, and the net that confined her hair, and
+her dolls and dolls' dresses, Timareta dedicates before her marriage to
+Artemis of Limnae,--a maiden to a maiden, as is fit; do thou, daughter of
+Leto, laying thine hand over the girl Timareta, preserve her purely in
+her purity.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+WISHING
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+  It's oh! to be a wild wind, when my lady's in the sun:
+  She'd just unbind her neckerchief, and take me breathing in.
+
+  It's oh! to be a red rose, just a faintly blushing one,
+  So she'd pull me with her hand, and to her snowy breast I'd win.
+
+                                 Translation of William M. Hardinge.
+
+
+HOPE AND EXPERIENCE
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Whoso has married once and seeks a second wedding, is a shipwrecked man
+who sails twice through a difficult gulf.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE SERVICE OF GOD
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Me, Chelidon, priestess of Zeus, who knew well in old age how to make
+offering on the altars of the immortals, happy in my children, free from
+grief, the tomb holds; for with no shadow in their eyes the gods saw my
+piety.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE PURE IN HEART
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+He who enters the incense-filled temple must be holy; and holiness is to
+have a pure mind.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+THE WATER OF PURITY
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Hallowed in soul, O stranger, come even into the precinct of a pure god,
+touching thyself with the virgin water: for the good a few drops are
+set; but a wicked man the whole ocean cannot wash in its waters.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+ROSE AND THORN
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+The rose is at her prime a little while; which once past, thou wilt find
+when thou seekest, no rose, but a thorn.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+A LIFE'S WANDERING
+
+ANONYMOUS
+
+Know ye the flowery fields of the Cappadocian nation? Thence I was born
+of good parents: since I left them I have wandered to the sunset and the
+dawn; my name was Glaphyrus, and like my mind. I lived out my sixtieth
+year in perfect freedom; I know both the favor of fortune and the
+bitterness of life.
+
+                                        Translation of J.W. Mackail.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
+
+2. Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest
+paragraph break. Also the footnotes have been moved to the end of the
+paragraph/poem in which they are referred.
+
+3. Some selections for Richard Watson Gilder are different from those
+mentioned in the Table of Contents.
+
+4. The frontispiece "The Alexander Romance" and the photogravure "The
+Bride's Toilet" mentioned in the "Full-Page Illustrations" list are
+missing.
+
+5. The words Coeli, Phoenician, Phoenicians, Phoebus, coenaeque, Soeur
+and POENITENTIUM use "oe" ligature in the original.
+
+6. The original text includes Greek characters. For this etext version
+these letters have been replaced with transliterations.
+
+7. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies
+in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been
+retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library of the World's Best
+Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 ***
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